Grand Tour
by DrunkenGrognard
Summary: A crossover fic. Ryoga's curse of 'lost' threatens the fabric of the multiverse itself. The USS Voyager is swept up in his wake of chaos. The TSAB steps in to clean up the mess, recruiting Ranma to aid them, but it may already be too late to catch him...
1. Chapter 1

_**Grand Tour**_

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the various universes this fic meanders into, this is intended entirely as a tribute and entertainment._

_Further disclaimer: This is more or less a crack fic. I can't really come up with a better description than that. Hopefully the muse will hold out till it's done._

-Chapter 1-

The Ops crew barely glanced up at Commander Sisko as he exited his office, heading in the general direction of Colonel Kira's station. Absently he heard the faint mechanical click of the door closing as he sipped his raktijino. Though he tried to carry himself with as much energy and confidence as ever, he knew the strain of the war was starting to show through, at least enough for some of his closer associates to notice. Especially since the Romulans joined the war.

Best not to think about that part.

Too much to think about these days. He sipped at his drink. Behind him he heard the mechanical click of his office opening. It didn't properly register until he saw Colonel Kira do a double-take towards his office. He spun around and saw a teenaged boy.

He was looking around, looking somewhat confused. The youth wore a yellow-and-black bandana, black pants and a yellow shirt. A red umbrella perched on his shoulder, he said, "Uh, hi."

Commander Worf almost instantly had a phaser trained on the stranger, growling, "Identify yourself, intruder!"

The stranger gave Worf and his phaser a measuring look, then said, "Ryoga Hibiki. Where in Japan is this?"

The sheer absurdity of the statement held everyone silent for a moment. Sisko was the first to find his voice. "Japan? You think you're in Japan?"

The stranger blinked. "I'm not?"

For a moment the only sound in Ops was from the displays. "No. You're not." He tapped his comm badge. "Sisko to Odo. I need a security team to ops."

"They're on their way, Captain."

Ryoga looked around the room. Not everyone there was human. They were more or less all looking at him with suspicion. He hated when he found his way into restricted areas. Explaining things to military types was such a pain, they tended to have no sense of humor. This looked to be no different. These people were not happy. Only one of them had the look of a real fighter, one of the not-entirely-human types with dark skin. He didn't recognize the thing being pointed at him, but it looked vaguely weaponesque. He tried to look casual as whoever the black Captain had asked to come showed up. He didn't know who these people were but he didn't much feel like getting himself into more trouble if he could avoid it. He had no idea where he was, though based on the reaction of the man who'd called himself Sisko, it was far from home. Probably America, given that everyone was speaking English, though there were a couple odd accents almost under their words.

Given how surprised they all were to see a stranger, it was probably some kind of secret military base. He was probably in a lot of trouble.

It was all Ranma's fault, he was sure of it.

The security team had politely but firmly taken him to the lift. It had the open-framed design he associated with non-public places. Definitely some kind of base. The security officers were in dull-yellow jumpsuits, rather than the red-and-black of most of the ops people. The dark-skinned warrior was joining them in getting him out of where ever he was.

The elevator was going down. This did not fill Ryoga with confidence that he'd made a good choice in going quietly. Well, underground or not, he could generally find his way out of any strange place he got to, though he could never really figure out how to go back deliberately. At least it kept things interesting.

The lift stopped, doors opening, and another person walked in. He wasn't human, almost as strange looking as the one called Worf, but close. Sort of reptile-like. Cheerily, he said, "Good afternoon mister Worf! I'm afraid I haven't quite finished adjusting that suit for you. I'll finish it up as soon as I get back to my shop, however."

The dark-skinned warrior spoke in his half-growl, "Thank you, Mister Garack. I will be along to see it once I bring this... intruder... to the security office."

The one called Garack stepped into the lift. "Where did you find this ragged stranger?" His gaze flickered critically across Ryoga's form, cataloging his appearance.

"Ops. We do not know how he got there."

"I honestly don't know either. I'm not even sure where here is."

"Really?" The reptilian one seemed genuinely interested as the elevator started moving again. "Well, if you get a chance once Odo's done with you, come by my shop. I can get you some newer clothes, those ones look just dreadful."

Ryoga wasn't really sure how to answer that. He normally didn't care about what people thought of his clothes – he dressed for extended periods away from civilization, not for looks – but something about the scaly guy made him feel self-conscious. He mumbled something vaguely defensive as the lift came to a halt again. A nudge from one of the security types told them this was their stop. Distractedly, he walked out of the elevator. They followed.

Worf, paying attention to his prisoner and trying not to pay attention to the Cardassian, made it almost ten steps before realizing he wasn't walking onto the promenade. From the sudden intake of breath, Liran, Mor, and Garack took almost as long to notice themselves. His hand dropped onto the boy's shoulder, bringing him up short as he looked around.

They were on a federation starship. The corridor was too wide to be the Defiant, and he had no idea where they were. The two Bajoran security men moved to cover the corridor behind them – there was no sign of a turbolift back there – as Worf tried to make sense of things.

Garack seemed to recover quickest. "Well. This is most interesting. Computer," he waited a moment for an answering beep, "What is our present location?"

The familiar, smooth female voice answered. "Deck twelve, section ten."

Worf growled, "What ship, computer?"

"USS Voyager."

There was a moment's confused silence as they processed that. Then the name registered, and the four of them nearly panicked. Ryoga just looked at them, wondering what the fuss was.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the various universes this fic meanders into, this is intended entirely as a tribute and entertainment._

-Chapter 2-

Lieutenant Tuvok was going to have a word with Lieutenant Torres about the internal security sensors later. His first alert of intruders aboard should have been when they arrived, not after they asked the computer where they were. The sensors were, apparently, down in that section; they had been unable to get a visual scan of the intruders. Why the computer answered them was worth another question or two, though he was not yet sure who he would be asking. Torres certainly; possibly also Seven of Nine or the Doctor, depending on what the engineer thought was the cause.

For a fleeting moment he wished Kes was still with them. Her intuition had been useful in the past. Still, the moment passed. There was no way to bring her back and thus it would be illogical to dwell on the matter.

Flanked by a pair of security officers, they moved into the corridor where the intruders were being contained by a set of security fields. Of the five of them, four were easy to quantify at a glance: one Klingon in a Starfleet uniform; command track red. Two Bajorans in the gold of the support branch of their militia, brandishing hand phasers. One Cardassian, in Bajoran civilian garb. The other was a human civilian, a teenage male. The human was poking the force field, more curious than anything else.

The Bajorans were looking around, seemed to be on the edge of wild-eyed panic. The Klingon's expression was dark, angry. If one recognized that anyone arriving in the depths of Voyager while she was at warp with shields raised was flatly impossible and discarded that as a reason to invalidate one's conclusions, it was a simple mental exercise to deduce who these strangers were.

And after almost six years in the Delta Quadrant, mere impossibility was easy to discount.

Simple logic – armed Bajorans in militia uniforms accompanied by a Klingon Starfleet officer and a Cardassian – suggested that these people were from the Alpha Quadrant. It had been a while since he had last read the situation reports Starfleet Intelligance had forwarded them via the Hirogin arrays, but there was really only two possibilities. He opened his tricorder and began scanning, and tentatively eliminated one of them.

He stepped to just over a meter from the forcefield. "Lieutenant Commander Worf, I believe?" The Klingon, still glowering, nodded. Tuvok turned towards the Cardassian. "Mister Garack."

The Cardassian fairly beamed. "Why yes, Lieutenant. Though I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."

Almost despite himself, he responded to the spy's remark. "In what way?"

"I'm afraid I don't remember your name." He looked almost contrite for a moment. "Terribly sorry, I do try and remember all my customers. Please, jog my memory, what kind of tailoring did I do for you?"

Tuvok hesitated, then chose to ignore the jibe for the moment. He tapped his comm badge. "Tuvok to Janeway. I have located the intruders. They do not appear to be hostile."

"What are they?"

"One Starfleet officer, two members of the Bajoran Militia, and two civilians."

There was a long silence, marred only by a faint chuckle from Garack.

"Take them to sickbay. I'll be along shortly."

Ryoga wasn't quite sure what to make of the bald, human looking thing or the gizmo he was waving around. Everyone else he'd met today had ki in various amounts, except for this 'doctor.' The brusque mannered man seemed to have no ki at all, as though he wasn't really even there.

He wasn't sure what to do. The 'sickbay' was full of people who all seemed confused and curious. They kept glancing at him, and he suspected he was going to be asked the usual battery of odd questions that cropped up when he stumbled into secret places. He was seriously wondering if he should just try and make a break for it. An experimental touch on the wall behind him told him that whatever it was made of, it had a breaking point in it, he could make a way out if he needed to.

The Doctor pulled Captain Janeway away from the small mob of crewmembers clustered around the newcomers. Voyager's rumor mill was faster than average, and word had gotten out that there were visitors from the Alpha Quadrant aboard in a typical hurry. So far a baker's dozen crewmembers had 'just happened' to visit sickbay on some pretense so they could get in his way and ask the strangers questions about home.

Well, ask the two Bajoran security officers, anyway. Chakotay was talking with mister Worf, trying to do a starfleet style debriefing, as had the Captain before he pulled her away. The strange human had a sullen, slightly hostile look that was keeping the others at a bit of a distance, and as for the Cardassian...

A fair percentage of the crew were ex-Maquis. The others remembered what the Cardassian traitor Seska had done to them. The Cardassian was a hated island of beaming calm in a frantic sea, ignoring the various looks of anger and distrust aimed his way. When the Doctor had scanned him, he identified himself as 'Elim Garack, a simple tailor.' He seemed far too composed for that. Tuvok was making subtle noises that suggested he knew who or what the Cardassian was.

"It seems unbelievable that they could just appear here," Janeway said.

The Doctor shrugged. "That's not my area of expertise. From what I can tell, Liran and Mor are in perfect health. The Cardassian seems to be in good shape, though I've found some lingering damage in a few areas. Old injuries, in my opinion."

"And Mister Worf?"

"He seems fine as well. I'd like to scan him again once he's calmed down because his biochemistry is a bit off norms, but not too badly."

Janeway nodded. "That should be possible. What about the human?"

"I'm not sure if he even is human." At Janeway's surprised glance, he continued, "For all he has the general appearance of a human male of Asiatic descent, his physiology is... inconsistent. His bone density is over three times anything I've seen in anyone. His musculature is also denser than human, or even Klingon, norms."

A glance at Janeway's expression showed that she was in scientist mode. "Some kind of genetic engineering?"

"That was my first thought, but I can't find any real indicators of it. There are some inconsistencies in his blood chemistry, but they aren't consistent with any genetic engineering in my database."

"What kind of inconsistencies?"

"His blood has significantly more hemoglobin than human norms, but not all of it appears to be human. Some of it almost looks... porcine."

"That... is strange." She gave the youth a measuring look from across sickbay, then blinked. "Are those... fangs?"

"As best I can tell, yes."

Ryoga was muttering darkly under his breath as he glared at the doctor and the lady he was speaking with. He wondered what they were saying about him; there'd been too many glances his way for it to be about anyone else. He was not in the mood to be poked and prodded by some secret lab. That had happened to him once before and he had no desire for a repeat. Those probes had hurt.

He didn't notice another guy coming towards him until he flipped open a gizmo like the doctor had used on him. "Afternoon, friend. Tom Paris, helmsman, doctor's aid, and general fixit guy."

"Ryoga Hibiki. Martial artist."

Tom looked up from the device and extended a hand. Ryoga shook it.

"Anyway, I know the doc's already had a look at you, but he wanted a second opinion." The sandy haired man returned his attention to the gizmo. "Japanese right? Sounded like that was what you were muttering in."

"Yeah. It's been a long day."

"I can imagine. Worf over their says this is all your fault."

Ryoga snorted. "He's wrong. All I did was turn a corner and suddenly he was pointing a gun at me."

"You turned a corner and wound up in the command section of a space station?"

Ryoga blinked. "Space station?"

"Yeah, DS9. Now you're on the Starship Voyager."

As best he knew, Ryoga had never been off of Earth before. Fighting down panic, he managed, "And how far is the Starship Voyager from Earth?"

Tom closed up his gizmo, gave him a long look. "You honestly don't know, do you? We're in the Delta quadrant. We're probably a couple decades of travel from earth still."

Ryoga tensed up, looked like he was ready to run, then froze. With the breaking point, he was sure he could make himself a path through this ship and get clear, but what if he hit the wrong wall? He was in space. He only vaguely remembered learning about space from school, but he did remember that it would kill a guy in seconds, in about four different ways, none of them pleasant.

"Hey, calm down. The ship's in good shape. We haven't even had anyone shooting at us in weeks." Tom hadn't gotten a full scan done with his medical tricorder, but he'd seen enough to know that if this guy panicked, even the big Klingon wouldn't be able to stop him. Especially if he was some kind of martial artist. Absently he wished he'd thought to grab a hypospray and some anesthetic.

Ryoga closed his eyes and forced himself to exhale. After a few deep breaths he'd visibly calmed himself down. "Damn you Ranma," he muttered.

Tom started up the tricorder again. "Who's Ranma?"

"The reason I'm burdened with this curse. This is all his fault."

"What, he did something that messed you up, then ditched out on you?"

Ryoga thought back to Jusenkyo. "More or less."

"No wonder you're mad. I would be too."

"I need to get out of here."

"What, you get Worf, Mor, Liran and Elim messed up and now you wanna ditch out on them. Just like that Ranma guy did to you?"

Ryoga felt his face flush. "It's not the same."

"From where I'm standing it is." He pretended to be paying attention to the medical tricorder. Tom was no astrophysicist, but he knew enough that something weird as hell was going on, and this ragged looking teenager had something to do with it. "Stick around a bit, be a better man than this Ranma. We have some technical wizards here, if anyone can figure out a way to fix this, they can." They would certainly be highly motivated to figure out how this guy had gone from DS9 to the Delta Quadrant in a single step. More specifically, how to reverse the process.

Ryoga mulled that over for a minute. He liked the idea of being better than Ranma. He especially liked the idea of being better than Ranma in a way that saved a lot of people. He'd be famous! Possibly rich! Probably cured! The prospect of being rid of the pig was a tempting one.

"Sure, I can stick around for a while. It's a martial artist's duty to help those in need."

Careful questioning had ferreted out some details – in general, Ryoga tended to get where someone wanted him to if he was following someone else, it was when he was in the lead that places got wonky. He wasn't all that bright, and it had taken very little to convince him that they were short on proper bunks at the moment, and would he mind sacking out in the brig? Not permanently, just for a day or two while they moved some people around and freed up some quarters. The promise of a meal helped distract him further.

When thanked for coming up with a handle for their strange guest, Tom had shrugged it off. "One juvenile delinquent working on another, nothing special about it." Since the two seemed to have something of a repoir, Tom was asked to spend some off-duty time trying to learn more from their guest. While he talked with the stranger, Seven, Torres, and Janeway poured over every scrap of sensor data they had on the youth's arrival and his medical data, trying to figure out how he'd done whatever it was he'd done. There was nothing odd about their other guests, so barring divine (or possibly Q-vine) intervention, this Ryoga was somehow responsible.

The two Bajorans had found friends among the ship's Bajoran crew members, eager for news of home, as well as several of the Maquis. They had little news of the rest of the Federation, though, and neither did Lieutenant Commander Worf – he'd concentrated on the military situation to the exclusion of almost all else.

Not so the Cardassian. Elim Garack had planted himself in the mess hall with an open smile and a sewing kit. The crew knew where he was from, and after some initial reluctance, had decided to see if he knew anything about what was happening at home. He'd been more than happy to oblige them. The Cardassian was a treasure trove of minutia from home. He was 'just a simple tailor' after all, and kept up on news all over the Alpha quadrant 'to take his mind off the war.' News from Earth? Peliar Zel? Coltar IV? He had some. The winner of this year's Parrises Squares championship? Dom-jot Intergalactics? Strategema? Even the twists of several soap-operas – he knew them. He had tidbits from all over, 'little things' he remembered from his efforts to forget the terrifying war raging near DS9.

And between questions he happily mended clothes for various crewmembers, repairing many a badly-worn off-duty outfit, opening his ears, and absorbing vast swathes of information from the conversations flowing around him. He'd made himself quite popular with the crew and only the fact that it would cause a hefty blow to morale prevented Janeway from throwing him into the brig the second she finally got around to looking at his Starfleet Intelligence file. She comforted herself with the thought that he probably couldn't do anything too damaging with information about daily life on the Voyager, but she was not fond of the idea of a master spy on board her ship.

Still, they had a journey to make and a mystery to study. Though the visuals had been down, the rest of the internal sensors had been working fine. They had registered five people appearing in the middle of a corridor and a small release of radiation. But for some reason the sensors had not seen fit to alert security of these arrivals. Two separate diagnostics had failed to reveal a reason, and Janeway was rather unnerved at the situation. They had not managed to puzzle out much of the radiation surge, either – several different types of radiation were mixed together, none in great enough quantities to identify. They were continuing to refine the scan data, however, and Seven in particular was fairly sure she would be able to distinguish them soon. They were collecting as much scan data as they could on Ryoga, in the hopes of discovering something they could use, though they hesitated to give him run of the ship. Tom theorized, after talking with the youth for some time, that Ryoga was as likely as not to simply vanish if he went wandering around.

He didn't even seem to realize that was what he was doing, which was a scary thought.

It had been a long and boring shift so far, nothing out of the ordinary happening, and Harry Kim was bored enough to listen to Tom's ramblings as they meandered around various subjects. Still, he'd be done in – he glanced at the chrono – another hour and thirty-five minutes. He could mana-

The long range sensors beeped at him as they picked up an incoming ship. He looked to his board, "Long range contact, bearing 344 mark 121 by 212."

Tom, and the security rating at Tactical were instantly pouring over their stations. Kim's fingers danced over his sensor board, bringing the contact into focus. He swallowed hard when he recognized it: a Borg cube. Kim punched the Red Alert button. "Incoming vessel is a Borg ship, Tom."

The older officer swore under his breath and changed course without prompting, swinging away from the cube. "Have they seen us?"

Kim's stomach felt full of lead. "I think so, they're changing course to intercept us." Tom swore again, took the ship to maximum warp. Kim hit the intercom. With the klaxons howling, the senior officers were probably en route to the bridge anyway, but regulations remained. "Bridge to Captain Janeway."

"Janeway here," came the reply.

"There is a Borg cube at long range, moving towards us."

"I'll be right there, Harry. What's its closing velocity?"

He glanced over his board before responding. "It's pursuing at Warp 9.975. Tom's brought us up to that speed as well, but I'm not sure how long we can maintain it."

The answer was unspoken but they both heard it: _not as long as the cube could._

The stern chase had gone for three hours now. The cube was steadily gaining on them, its speed holding steady as their slowly fell. B'elanna was working miracles down in the engine room but the cold mathematics of the situation were taking their toll. Voyager's speed had fallen to warp 9.6.

They'd managed to come up with several little tricks to deal with Borg ships of all shapes and sizes. Unfortunately, not all of it was ready for use at the moment. And none of the tricks that were ready to go would suffice against an all-up cube. They were hoping against hope to find a nebula or dense asteroid field, or anything they could use to elude the Borg cube, but at the moment there was nothing that looked promising showing up in Stellar Cartography.

Twenty-seven cubic kilometers of death and slavery were gaining steadily.

Save for B'elanna and Seven, the entire senior staff were on the bridge, as was Lieutenant Commander Worf. Though he had no official place there, he had a strong desire to at least try to help. He'd been deep in the freewheeling tactical discussion that had ended most of an hour ago with the conclusion that in this case, resistance really would be futile. He was standing beside Tactical at the moment, and he and Tuvok had set up a battle plan to take as big a chunk out of that cube as possible when it inevitably overhauled them. It would be a futile gesture of defiance, but one that they couldn't not make.

"Borg cube is two-hundred thousand kilometers astern and closing." Kim's voice was quiet. The ship was still technically at Red Alert, but they'd let the klaxons fall silent some time ago. There was no point to them now: everyone knew that the Borg were in pursuit.

"Thank you, Mister Kim." The strain barely showed in the Captains voice, but it was there. For a long stretch silence reigned on the bridge.

Tom spoke up. "Captain, somethings occurred to me. It's probably not something that would work, but, what the hell, we don't have a plan anyway."

"Go ahead, Mister Paris."

"Well, technically, the helmsman leads a ship right?"

Janeway wasn't quite sure where he was going with this. "That's the traditional interpretation, yes."

"Ok, this is basically a dumb theory but... from what I gathered from Ryoga, when he's in the lead, whoever and whatever he's leading tend to follow him when he does whatever it is that gets him lost. That's what happened with Worf and the others from DS9, and he can think of a few incidents where he figures that's what happened."

"Are you seriously suggesting...?"

"That we get him up here and put him on the helm for a few minutes? Yes."

"If I remember your reports, he has no conscious control over the process. How do we know where we'd end up?"

"Given that we're dead or worse when that cube catches up, I don't think we're losing much by trying."

There was a long, thoughtful silence. Janeway and Chakotay traded looks.

"Do it."

Two of Tuvok's security people carefully retrieved Ryoga from the brig, manacles linking one of his arms to the lead security officer, who was taking care to stay in front. Both security types realized that, given what Rumor Central had to say about this guy, the manacles were pure wishful thinking as a way to hang onto him, but damnit, they had to do _something_.

They'd explained the plan to him as best they knew it. He thought they were nuts. Still, the last three hours, knowing that there was some kind of emergency going on and being stuck where he couldn't do anything about it had worn on his nerves. When the security guys showed up to bring him to the bridge, he'd been almost ready to start Breaking Pointing his way out, praying madly that he'd not bust the wrong wall and toss himself into vacuum. The chance to at least attempt to do something was nice, even if it failed and they all got killed, he could spit in doom's eye.

The bridge was cramped with so many people in it, and stank of fear and fury. His friend, Tom, stood up from one of the stations near the front and waved him towards it. The guard uncuffed him and he ran up. "What do I do?"

Tom gestured to the console. "Need you to put us on course. Think of it like a computer game."

Ryoga sat, looked over the console with growing fear. English. He could speak it but he couldn't read it.

Tom seemed to realize his trouble. "Computer, change display language for the helm to Japanese."

There was a helpful-sounding beep and the english characters beneath his fingers shifted into kanji. Ryoga sighed in relief, nodding his thanks at Tom, then started reading the thing as fast as he could.

"The Borg vessel is one hundred thousand kilometers astern and closing. Firing range in two minutes," announced Kim

_Okay, that looks like some kind of compass setup, I guess the numbers put in degrees or something... that one looks like some kind of throttle I guess... oh hell, who am I fooling? I can't tell what half of this is._

Time stretched as Ryoga experimentally punched buttons, saw the readouts change. "Firing range in thirty seconds," announced Harry.

"It is a good day to die," rumbled Worf.

"Mister Hibiki," began Janeway, "We need that course, and we need it now."

The fanged boy nodded, punched buttons for a moment, then said, "I have one, Captain."

"Engage."

Ryoga took a deep breath, then punched the button marked execute.

To an outside observer, Voyager appeared to start to swing hard to port, shudder for a moment, then vanish as it followed Ryoga's lead. The Borg cube, following Voyager, did likewise. For all intents and purposes, both ships blinked out of this universe in the same instant.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the various universes this fic meanders into, this is intended entirely as a tribute and entertainment. For me anyway, don't much care if anyone else likes it. So there!_

-Chapter 3-

The Imperial Star Destroyer _Chimera _hung in space, hull lit by distant stars.

They were waiting in deep space near the Obroa-skai system, ahead of schedule. They had more time than they had expected to prepare for their information raid on the great library world. The raid promised to be a profitable one.

Captain Giliad Pellaeon almost felt good about things, though it was hard, after five years of factional squabbles, near constant retreats, and mounting losses that had pushed the Imperial Starfleet deep into its own back yard. He strangled the urge to snarl at the thought; he was on duty and part of that duty was to present a confident and composed exterior. He walked the bridge. This deep into space, even the system nearest them was indistinguishable from the general starfield to the naked eye, so he looked into the crew pits as he went.

Below him, at the sensor station, one of the operators started at something on his screen, quietly got the attention of the supervising officer. Pellaeon was at the rail above them when the officer had finished going over the reading. The supervisor glanced up. "Captain Pellaeon, we've detected two unidentified ships to port. Range 300,000 kilometers."

Pellaeon blinked. "Why didn't we get a proximity alert when they dropped out of hyperspace?"

"Unknown sir. We're looking into that now."

Pellaeon nodded, frowning slightly. Still. "Transmit the ship's position to Navigation." He turned, looked to the Navigation station. The supervisor there, a sharp young officer, had seen the upload from Sensors and met his gaze. "Plot an intercept course and procede."

"Yes Captain."

Pellaeon quickly descended the ladder into the crew pit; he wanted a look at these unknowns.

Ryoga punched the execute key, and for about three seconds nothing seemed to happen. Then several things happened at once. Ryoga screamed in sudden pain and fell from the helmsman's chair; the viewscreen went to static; and a power surge blew out one of the bridge's aft EPS conduits. Tom was at the young man's side in seconds, medical tricorder already open.

As the fire surpressants kicked in, Janeway shouted, "Report!"

Kim was the first to answer. "We've dropped out of warp, sensors and shields are down, and I'm showing power fluctuations all over the ship."

The Captain glanced around the bridge. Only Ryoga was down, and he was being attended to. She punched the intercom. "Bridge to Engineering. B'elanna, what the hell just happened?"

There was a brief delay before the chief engineer answered. "Something collapsed the warp field and caused a power feedback. We have that under control, but it's going to take a while to get the engines back up."

"Understood. Keep me informed." She broke the circuit, punched in another. "Bridge to Astrometrics. Seven, can your instruments tell us where we are?"

The reply was, as always, crisp. "No, Captain, but I believe we have undergone a dramatic change in position. I am analyzing the local starfield and attempting to discern our position."

That, at least, was worth something. Tom's theory, desperate and mad though it was, had been correct. Whatever it was Ryoga did, it could affect more than just people. She looked towards the conn; the youth was curled into a fetal ball at the base of the console. Tom was crouched beside him, one hand holding the youth's shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

"How is he?"

"I'm not sure, Captain. The tricorder didn't see any damage or injury, but he seems to be in a lot of pain and he might be going into shock. I'd like to get the Doc to take a look at him."

Janeway looked to the two security officers, nodded. They moved to the conn, picked up Ryoga, and then started for the turbolift. Tom moved to follow. "No, Tom."

He flashed her an irritated look. "He's hurt, and he's probably not the only one. The Doc'll need my help in Sickbay."

Janeway's voice was hard. "I need you at the helm."

Before he could protest further, Harry exclaimed, "Captain! Sensors are back online. The Borg cube is approximately 50,000 kilometers astern of us. It looks like it suffered the same kind of problem we did in that... transit. They're drifting." He frowned. "One other contact, approaching at about half impulse at bearing 117 mark 21 by 97 mark 146."

"What kind of ship, Mister Kim?"

"Unknown captain, it doesn't match anything in our records. It's massive, Captain, approximately 1600 meters from bow to stern."

Tom swore quietly and took his seat at the conn, grimacing at its non-responsiveness.

"Open hailing frequencies, Mister Kim."

"Open."

"This is Captain Katherine Janeway of the Federation Starship _Voyager _to incoming vessel. We mean you no harm. Be advised, however, that the cuboid vessel astern of is of a hostile species."

There was a long moment of silence, then the mystery ship responded, audio only. "This is Captain Pellaeon of the Imperial Star Destroyer _Chimera. _Your concern is appreciated. Do not take any hostile actions or we will be forced to take action in response."

There was a moment's silence as the connection was broken.

"Straightforward guy, isn't he?" quipped Tom.

"Put that ship on screen, Ensign Kim."

The static cleared, revealing the massive, angular bulk of the Star Destroyer. The large gray vessel seemed to radiate menace. This was not a ship built to explore or defend. This was a ship built for conquest.

On the Borg cube, all was confusion. No sooner had they begun damage control from the damage done by the power feedback in their warp field than they realized that they could _no longer hear the Queen_. All their efforts at damage control fell apart in a bare instant. The nanobots that did most of the actual work weren't sophisticated enough to connect to the collective. But when their orders suddenly started pulling them in dozens of directions at once, they got terribly confused.

**SHIELDS AND SENSORS ARE OFFLINE**_well fix them_Sensors first!no – shields first Sensors!shieldsNo, we need to see this new place!WHY ARE YOU ALL ARGUING THE NANITES CAN FIX BOTH AT ONCE_why can't we hear the Queen?_will someone fix the sensors?_**sensors are back up**_**I RECOGNIZE THE FEDERATION SHIP WE WERE CHASING BUT WHAT'S THAT OTHER ONE?**"I" recognize?_oh no are we becoming individuals? We cannot afford that right now_worry about that later- the other ship is hailing us

"This is the Imperial Star Destroyer _Chimera. _Identify yourselves at once or be destroyed."

The response – there could be only one response – was a terribly brief return to the deadly unity of Borg thought. "_We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile."_

The moment passed, a hundred thousand drones once united each trying to bring their own priorities to bear. Where once had been a symphony, now was only cacophony.

BRING UP THE SHIELDS_no, keep power on the sensors we need to learn more about this place__!_We need to get away from here and back to the queen! Go to warp!_**we can't. Some kind of distortion keeps collapsing the field when I-we try to establish it. **_So figure out why and adapt already. y_**ou think we aren't trying?**_ **Stop arguing like a pack of Species 180 for Queen's sake!**_what?_was that some attempt at profanity?**I think it was, uh... not sure where that came from.**** I THINK WE NEED TO GET THE SHIELDS UP. THE **_**CHIMERA**_** IS TARGETING US.**

"Remarkably straightforward," murmured Pellaeon as the Borg's response to his hail faded into silence. Even discounting the Death Star, the cuboid ship was not the most massive ship he had ever seen, the memory of mighty _Executor_ something of a comfort as he looked at the Borg vessel. Glancing up, he saw the Grand Admiral at his command chair on the bridge. Thrawn met his gaze, nodded slightly. Pellaeon returned it. He'd been about to report to the Grand Admiral in person; it did not surprise him to see that his enigmatic commander's interest had been piqued by this new arrival.

Pellaeon quickly moved to his place below the Admiral's command chair. Thrawn's red eyes were scanning his display repeaters. "Admiral, the larger unknown has stated hostile intentions."

Thrawn nodded. "And the other?"

"They have made no hostile maneuvers, and alerted us to the Borg's likely hostility."

"I see." The red eyes narrowed slightly, then, voice pitched to carry to the gunnery crews, "Target this 'Borg' vessel and destroy it."

"Aye aye, admiral."

Thrawn sat back in his chair, smiling thinly with fingers tented before him. This should be... interesting.

"_Chimera _is turning. It looks like they're trying to bring a broadside to bear on the Cube." Ensign Kim was both worried and hopeful. Voyager still didn't have its own shields back, and weapons power would be spotty. He really hoped the 'Star Destroyer' would be able to deal with the Borg – who also didn't have their shields back up – but he wasn't sure it was possible. This was, after all, a Borg ship they were talking about.

Silence filled the bridge as the two ships closed. It was broken by several gasps as the Star Destroyer opened fire, an avalanche of green energy blasts hammering into the Borg cube. By instinct, Harry focused sensors on that fire; his eyes widened in surprise at its power. Around the bridge, there was a chorus of indrawn breath, quiet profanity, and whispered oaths as the Borg cube came apart like a snowbank before a fire hose. A series of secondary explosions began to spread destruction ahead of the green wave, rendering the Cube into shrapnel.

Captain Janeway broke the ensuing silence. "Mister Kim, is that... debris... trying to regenerate?

Harry rechecked his scans twice before he could begin to speak. "No Captain, it is not."

There was another long silence, broken by a beeping at Harry's console. He blinked, looked down. "Captain, the _Chimera _is hailing us again. This time they're sending a video signal as well as audio."

"On screen."

The screen flicked from the expanding cloud of wreckage that had once been a Borg Cube and to a middle aged man in a gray uniform of severe cut. A peaked cap sat on his head, and a double row of blue and red pips adorned his breast, looking somewhat like rank insignia. His gaze flickered across the bridge, clearly looking at his own display, then, "Captain Janeway, I presume?"

"Captain Pellaeon. Yes. And thank you for coming to our assistance."

A ghost of a grin crossed his features. "They threatened an Imperial starship. Nothing less would have been appropriate."

Janeway tried to make her smile look natural. "Please remind me never to threaten you."

Pellaeon nodded slightly, then, "In any event, I would rather like to know how you came to be here."

"We were being pursued by the Borg cube. We couldn't outrun it, so we tried something... a bit experimental with our engines. It didn't work the way we'd hoped, though it seemed to disable them. We've suffered some systems damage as well, but we have it well under control." Mentally, she added, _B'elanna, you'd better have it under control._

Pellaeon seemed to consider her answer for a moment, then glanced at something out of his pickup's field of view. "Continue with your repairs, but for now, stand by. We will be salvaging debris from that wreck for now."

"I would advise caution. Borg technology incorporates a number of.. anti-tampering measures."

"Your concern is noted. If possible, we would appreciate any information on these Borg that you could share. Pellaeon out."

Ryoga was looking a hell of a lot better when Tom found him in Sickbay than he had when he'd been carried off the bridge. He was sitting on a biobed, hunched up with eyes closed, looking damned tired but unhurt. There were about a dozen others in sickbay with various injuries, none of which looked all that serious to his eye. Concern for his new friend beat out his medical duties for the moment. "You ok?"

Ryoga looked up, eyes taking a moment to focus. "Yeah," he said, voice a dry, tired rasp.

"You don't sound it."

The fanged boy shrugged. "It's just pain. Nothing's broken. Feel like I ran a marathon while carrying a mountain."

"Well, for what it's worth, you saved our butts back there."

"The thing chasing us didn't follow?"

"It did, but some locals took it out. They seem friendly to us so far." _To us, _Tom added silently.

Ryoga nodded, straightened up a bit. "Thanks for telling me, knowing it worked helps."

"You just rest for now. You did good, Ranma'd be jealous."

Ryoga laughed a bit at that, lay back down.

Tom walked to the Doctor, who was running a dermal regenerator over a crewman's burn. Without speaking, he handed the tool to Tom, who took over while the Doctor moved to the next patient. "You made the right call, getting him here so quickly. I had to stabilize him slightly to counteract the shock."

"Thanks. Sorry I wasn't here sooner. Captain wanted me at the helm for all the good it did. Impulse still isn't up and they don't know why the warp drive failed yet."

"Oh, lovely. Hopefully they'll figure it out."

Lieutenant Joe Carey groaned as he straightened up, his back making several interesting pops and crackles.

It had been a long double shift in the engine room putting things back together after whatever-it-was had taken them apart. It had been late in his shift when the Borg showed up and he'd been on short sleep beforehand anyway. Only strong coffee was keeping him going now. Still, they were almost done repairing the damage, and before the Captain had called her to a senior staff meeting, he and Torres had managed to put together a thorough summary of the sequence of mechanical failures.

Voyager had been running flat out for the better part of three hours. In that time frame they'd decelerated a few times, first from warp 9.975 to warp 9.9, then 9.8 about half an hour into the run. They'd held that for forty-five minutes by sheer determination and willful ignorance of about a dozen safety regs. They dropped to 9.75, then 9.725, over the next twenty minutes after burning out one of the power transfer coils. Only a surprisingly resilient jury-rig, one that had been there so long it was practically official, had kept them from dropping out of warp completely at that point. For twenty-five minutes they'd managed to keep up with the running repairs and had actually started getting ahead of things in some areas. They managed to swap the starboard primaries onto the backup transfer coils before they burned out - no mean feat with everything else going on - but had had to drop to 9.65 to keep from overloading the backup. They'd had no major system failures after that point - until after the jump, or whatever it was, had happened - but they'd had to start juggling the harmonics of the warp field at that point to keep it stable. Voyager badly needed to visit the inside of a Starbase for a few months. They'd dropped to warp 9.6 only ten minutes before the jump.

The jump, who or whatever had caused it and wherever the hell it had taken them, had induced a massive feedback in the warp field. Somehow it had done this without tripping the automatic cutoffs. Most of the breakers tripped in under a second of the feedback starting, but with the number of terawatts involved in pushing out a warp field that powerful, it didn't need all that long. Several EPS and power transfer conduits blew, as did a number of relays, but nothing critical was taken out permanently. This took out the shields, the sensors, the warp drive, and half a dozen minor systems. The inertial dampners fluctuated for a few microseconds, but their own backups kicked in before the crew could be turned into goo against forward bulkheads by several million gravities of deceleration.

The engine cutoffs finally tripped, knocking out impulse, but not before the impulse drive control console in Engineering began to vent blue smoke just before going dark. When they'd finally popped it open a few minutes later, they saw half a dozen isolinear chips melted into glowing yellow slag. Fixing that was going to take a while, the board itself had been partially burned out and they didn't have spare isolinear chips with the appropriate control programs in hand. Digging out the backups on the main computer was slow going. Someone - probably Seven-of-Nine - was using a hell of a lot of computer power, presumably to figure out what the hell that jump had been and, hopefully, how to control it.

One of the Alpha shift engineers was working on the impulse control board now, one of Torres' fellow ex-Maquis. At least he was trying to put it back together following the circuit diagram and not jury-rigging it.

He shook himself slightly. He was being unfair, and he knew it. On the whole, the ex-Maquis in the engineering staff were just as competent as their starfleet cohorts, and the two groups had mostly gelled into a strong engine crew over the years. Normally he was better at keeping that in mind. Though normally he wasn't pulling shifts this long and working quite so hard to fix things quite so fast.

He and Torres had come to an understanding early in their trip home. As Chief, Torres led Alpha shift. In his capacity as assistant chief, Carey would alternate between Beta and Gamma shifts. They didn't like each other, though they had come to respect each other's capabilities, so they helped the engine room function smoothly by not being there at the same time. That way there would be no more angry arguments between the Chief and her assistant chief in front of everyone, which helped both of them.

He understood why the Captain had made Torres Chief over him, and he'd even come to agree with it over the years, for all it conflicted with his by-the-book careerist mentality. If nothing else, the arrangement allowed him to avoid most of the paperwork.

Lieutenant Commander Worf walked into the engine room, carrying something. The big Klingon had showed up a few hours before, asking if there was anything he could do to help. He'd helped Tuvok throw together an information package on the Borg for their new friends, and then decided to try to help with the repairs. Torres had asked why, he'd answered that he wasn't part of the senior staff of this ship and it would not be appropriate for him to act as if he was. The Chief had put him on tug-and-plug duty and told him she'd have a word with the Captain.

The rest of the engineering staff had been... wary. Torres was only half Klingon and her temper was legendary. Carey and Torres had carefully ignored the engineers who quietly started a pool about who would be feeling a full blooded Klingon temper. But so far, nothing. He was calm, collected, and reasonably competent. Damn near Vulcan-like, even after a few of the heavier betters decided to needle him a bit after Torres went to the staff meetings. Carey had put a stop to them.

For now, though. "Lieutenant Carey, I have replaced the EPS relay in section 1332."

"Thank you, sir. How much of the old relay was left?"

"It appeared to be a burnout rather than a burst." He held up the part he'd been carrying. Carey took it.

"Huh. Thank you, sir. We should be able to get something out of it." The attachment points seemed intact, he'd have to open it up to see if it was worth rebuilding. "For what it's worth, I really appreciate you coming down to help."

"It is not a problem, Lieutenant. I am happy to have the chance to do something useful. Inaction... does not suit me."

"Well. It's still worth thanking you." Carey worked the main engineering console for a moment, POSTed the EPS relay the Klingon had just installed. It went through properly. He nodded. "Excellent. Thank you, sir."

"You are welcome, Lieutenant."

Routine items of repair and department status took up the first fifteen minutes of the staff meeting. They got the formalities out of the way first in an unspoken desire that Seven's report would be good news. The former Borg found their attitude more than a little annoying but hardly surprising. Even Tuvok could let hope overshadow logic. It was a most annoying human trait, though if she were brutally self-honest she'd admit that she was not immune to it.

"I have analyzed sensor data from our... transition. There was a significant radiation release at the apparent moment of transition, and the beginnings of a subspace rupture, although we 'jumped' before the rupture had a chance to take form. The radiation release continued after we 'jumped' to this area. I have better sensor data on this release: high concentrations of tachyons, chronitrons, gravitons and tetryions." She paused. "There were measurable quantities of two separate types of unknown radiation as well. I believe one of those radiations was responsible for collapsing the warp field."

"And our current location?"

"Unknown, Captain. We are at the fringes of a star system that appears to be inhabited, but extensive surveys of the visible starfield suggests that we are not in the same galaxy."

"Galaxy?" There was a small stir at that.

"Yes."

"Well," began Tom, "Should I be talking our friend into the pilot's seat again?"

"We'll have to try. Though we should take more time for repairs, I think."

B'elanna spoke up, "Actually, we should be fine. The damage was almost entirely because of feedback from the collapsing warp field. If we can make the transition without Warp drive we should be fine, and otherwise, we know what to look for now. We should be able to minimize any potential problems."

There was a short silence as the senior staff absorbed that. Finally, Janeway said, "That's what we'll do, then. Tom, do you think he'd be up to another jump now?"

The conn officer/nurse was slow to respond. "I don't know. It would probably be best to give him some more time to rest, he seemed pretty wiped out when I left Sickbay."

"Fair enough. Chakotay, what have our friends been up to?"

"_Chimera _has deployed several shuttles and fighters to the wreckage of the Borg cube. They appear to be working on salvage operations. They haven't said anything to us since Tuvok transmitted that Borg summary you asked him to assemble."

"Tuvok?"

"The information summary was carefully edited by myself and Lieutenant Commander Worf to try and reduce the amount of data that _Chimera _could use to surmise the extent of the tactical discrepancy between our own vessels and theirs. There are no details of the various Starfleet/Borg battles of which we had records, and no mention at all of the battle of Wolf 359."

Chakotay frowned. "They'll probably be able to guess that they do have a firepower advantage ship-per-ship from the removal of that kind of information."

The Vulcan nodded. "A logical inference. But without any evidence to confirm it, they will not have a reason to be confident of their advantage. In any event, if we are indeed in another galaxy, they are unlikely to be able to take advantage of such information."

Chakotay nodded, conceding the point. Janeway said, "In any event, if we can," she turned to B'elanna, "We should get under way, find ourselves a quiet corner of space to attempt our second jump." The Chief Engineer nodded. Janeway looked to Tuvok. "If I remember your report correctly, Mister Hibiki's effects are in a backpack in the security office. It would probably be a good gesture on our part to give those back to him."

"Captain, I am unsure if that is wise. At least one of those items appears to be a weapon."

"Which item?"

"The umbrella." At the disbelieving silence of the crew, he elaborated. "It masses over twenty kilograms, the main shaft is made of heavy metal."

"That's... quite the umbrella," chuckled Tom.

Janeway shot him a look, then turned to Tuvok. "A gesture of trust and goodwil, Mister Tuvok. Give him his umbrella back."

Captain Pellaeon paused in the darkened antechamber. Somewhere in this room was the Grand Admiral's pet Noghri bodyguard. He couldn't see the stunted, lizardy bastard. "Captain Pellaeon to see the Grand Admiral," he said, eyes darting around the room.

A voice just behind his right ear made him jump, despite himself. "Of course, Captain. The Admiral will see you now." The door to the main chamber opened ahead of him.

Resisting the urge to swear, he grated, "Thank you," and walked into the main chamber.

Arrayed around Grand Admiral Thrawn's central dais, itself ringed with consoles repeating the bridge displays, were holograms. One was of _Voyager, _another of the Borg cube they had destroyed. There were four others, similar enough in design that Pellaeon inferred they were other Borg ships. There was, he admitted to himself, a satisfying simplicity to their designs.

The Grand Admiral turned his red-eyed gaze upon him. "Yes, Captain?"

"The _Voyager_ has transmitted their intention to leave the area and thanks us again for our assistance. They are proceeding away from the Obroa-skai system at sublight speed for the moment. Shall we detain them, or let them go?"

The red eyes narrowed for a moment in thought. "Let them go, Captain. There is nothing they could know that could harm our plan, even if the Rebels would trust them." The ghost of a grin appeared briefly on his face. "And I doubt the Rebels would trust them. They are not a threat."

Pellaeon's mind flashed back to their battle with the Borg. The Grand Admiral was probably right. "Of course, sir. Shall we proceed with our information raid?"

"Once they are out of sensor range, certainly. Let the explorers go, they will not trouble us."

"You're kidding. They deliberately supplied less lunches than there were students?" Tom laughed as the fanged boy, seated on his bunk and rummaging through his backpack, nodded. "That must have made for an interesting little scene at lunchtime."

"Yeah, they were good fights. Whenever I managed to find the place." Ryoga frowned, and not just at the map he was holding. "Damned curse. I couldn't help but get lost, even holding a map of the school." He looked intently at the map again. "You ever been to Tokyo?"

"Once, on spring break." Ryoga handed him the map. Tom, seated on a chair in the brig, took it and opened it up. An honest-to-god paper map. Ryoga really was from the distant past. He glanced over the map, tried to make himself remember the little Kanji he knew to no avail. "It looks more or less accurate, but, well..."

"The city's changed since my time." At Tom's nod, Ryoga took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. "Even I can figure out that this has to be the future. Starships and forcefields and stuff. What year is it?"

"2377."

The fanged boy's eyes squeezed shut, his head shook slowly. "Damn you, Ranma."

"You ok?"

"I'll be fine!" Ryoga snarled. Then, calmer, "I'll be fine. Just... That's hard to take."

"Hey, you traveled to the future, it stands to reason you can travel back too. The science types are trying to figure everything out, they should be able to get it."

Ryoga nodded, sighed.

"So, other than steal your lunch at school, what did this Ranma guy do to you?"

Ryoga thought for a moment, shrugged. "Why not tell you? You ever hear of a place in China called Jusenkyo?"

"Not that I can remember, but I was never all that interested in China."

"There's a training ground there built over a bunch of cursed springs. Ranma and his father were on a training journey, and they were sparring there, bouncing from bamboo to bamboo and fighting in midair. Ranma knocked his dad into the Spring of Drowned Panda, then Genma knocked Ranma into the Spring of Drowned Girl."

"Spring of Drowned – what?"

"The Jusenkyo curse is a transformation. Cold water turns you into whatever creature drowned in that spring, and hot water turns you back."

"So Ranma's dad – Genma?" At Ryoga's nod he continued, "Turns into a panda bear. And Ranma?"

"Turns into a cute redhead." He started chuckling. "And Ranma's got such a huge 'manly man' persona..." The two of them started laughing together.

After a few minutes, they recovered. "Oh, that's too funny. Big manly he-man turns into a redhead. How'd he take it?"

"He's been searching for a cure ever since."

"Never found one?"

"Not one that took. Couple of temporary ones, nothing permanent." There was a bitter note to Ryoga's voice at this.

"You got cursed there too?"

"Yeah..." the martial artist said absently.

Tom thought for a moment, decided to experiment a bit. Standing, he walked to the cell's 'fresher. "It's cold water that triggers the change, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

The glassful of water was in midair before Ryoga realized what was happening, he shouted, tried to block, too late.

Where the teenager had been was now a small, angry black pig with a striped bandanna around its neck. The little pig was glaring death at him.

Tom stared in disbelief for a moment, glanced to the security officer outside the cell, Ayala. They were, it seemed, both looking at a pig that had moments ago been a boy.

"Either we both need to see the Doc about hallucinations or there's something to this curse business." Tom turned back to the 'fresher, filled the glass with hot water.

"No kidding. You, uh, might want to be outside the cell when you hit him with that."

Tom, his scientific worldview shaken, wasn't thinking quite so clearly as he normally would. He poured the hot water on the black pig from within arms reach. Too fast for the eye to track, the pig changed back into Ryoga, who roared angrily and grabbed him by the front of his tunic.

Tom went sailing across the brig, crashed in a heap against the wall. Thinking quickly, Ayala had the containment forcefield back up before Ryoga could follow him. The fanged boy punched the shield once, twice, in frustration, then growled something in Japanese and pulled his clothes back on.

"You ok, sir?"

Tom winced as he stood, rubbing his shoulder. "Remind me not to do that again." He walked towards the cell. "Sorry about that, just testing a theory."

"I hope you're happy. I don't like being reminded of that curse."

"Sorry, it won't happen again."

The next morning, one of the crew's nonhumans came down the the brig. She looked a bit like Worf, though not quite as tough. Certainly not a warrior.

"Morning," she began brightly. "I'm B'elanna Torres."

Ryoga interrupted, "Tom's wife?"

"Yeah. And don't worry, I understand the desire to toss him across the room once in a while." The two shared a grin.

"What brings you down here?"

"Well, we've found a nice empty bit of space, and we'd like to get you back up to the Bridge. See if we can make that jump trick work again."

Ryoga winced involuntarily. He was tough, but that had _hurt. _He wasn't fond of the idea of doing it again. But, he'd given his word that he'd help. He took a deep breath, said, "Sure. I can help with that."

B'elanna smiled, a big smile that seemed to light up the room. "Thanks." She tapped a panel, the cell forcefield opened. "Come on, everyone's waiting for us."

He followed the alien around the ship, one of the security types bringing up the rear. The bridge was as he remembered, though this time there was no ominous picture of a big, deadly ship on the big TV screen thing. Tom was at the conn, the two exchanged slightly wary nods.

Captain Janeway looked up from the center seat. "Ah, Mister Hibiki. Welcome back to the bridge."

"Uh, no problem. What do you want me to do?"

"Just take the helm and lay in a course. Just at impulse, this time, not at warp."

"Ok." He felt rather self-conscious as he walked to the helm, everyone was watching him. Tom stood up and let him take the chair. The display was in Japanese again for him. Without the time pressure of the last jump, he took longer to study the controls, asked a few questions. After about three minutes, he thought he had a good course punched in. He turned towards the Captain. "Got it."

"Engage."

Ryoga nodded, turned back to the helm, braced himself, and hit the execute button.

Voyager had taken some care to get beyond their best guess of _Chimera_'s sensor range before attempting the jump. In that, they were correct. What they had not realized, was that they'd been followed away from the Obroa-skai system. An Imperial probe droid, hidden by the finest stealth systems the Empire could create, watched the process with its all-seeing sensors. It noted the radiation release and what appeared to be a strange rupture in space with great interest, then used its miniaturized Holocom link to pass that information along to _Chimera_.

In his study, Grand Admiral Thrawn saw, and smiled.

The image on the viewscreen started moving, then went gray for a moment. On the bridge of _Voyager_, Ryoga blinked, then laughed. "Oh, wow. That was nowhere near as bad as last time."

The screen flickered back to life, showing a planet and its moons ahead of them. Tom smiled, said, "Stands to reason. You were only moving one ship this time, not _Voyager_ and that monster. How you feeling?"

Ryoga stood, stretched. "A bit sore, but not bad."

"Thank you, Mister Hibiki," said the Captain. "Mister Kim, anything on sensors?"

"They're just clearing now. Scanning the local area." There was a moment's silence as the young ensign bent over his console, then, "Captain! Sensor contact, unknown ship, to port, four-hundred kilometers."


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the various universes this fic meanders into, this is intended to make you dance for my amusement. DANCE mortals!_

- Chapter 4 -

Admiral Chrono Harlaown sipped his tea and surveyed the bridge of _Claudia._

After the end of the Saint's Cradle incident, the Time-Space Administration Bureau had decided to get him away from Mid-Childa. His task force had been put on a deep space patrol while the political fallout was still coming down, and he knew that the unit his adopted sister had been in was being broken up. The high command liked the results they could get from such high-powered units, but they didn't like making such units a permanent feature of the military.

Chrono understood their logic, but didn't entirely agree with it. He'd grown up in the TSAB's navy, and he'd long known more than he liked about its politics and foibles. The same power that made people like him, his sister Fate Testarossa-Harlaown, and their friend Nanoha Takamachi such valuable military assets made it hard for the bureaucrats to trust, or even particularly like, them.

In his own case it was easy to understand, he mused as he finished his tea. He'd had the utter gall to shake their comfortable, corrupt little world ten years ago, when he exposed Admiral Graham's treasonous involvement with the Book of Darkness, and the Admiral's complicity in the death of Clyde Harlaown, Chrono's father, ten years prior to that. Revenge hadn't been his goal, simply justice and a desire to keep the Book from killing anyone else. No kid deserved to go through what he had at barely five years old.

Though the revenge had been satisfying, he had to admit. His father, he remembered, had believed in the system, warts and all, and he'd used the system to bring justice.

The resultant scandal of a long serving Admiral being convicted of treason had kicked off a series of investigations, some of them bordering on witch-hunts – an angry public was feeling betrayed, and they'd wanted blood. Several incidents, most of them years or even decades old, had been investigated, dozens of suspicious reports hidden quietly dragged into the light to assure the public that the TSAB was Doing Something About The Problem. Dozens of Enforcers, Captains, and even Admirals had skeletons pulled out of their closets and into the light, and dozens more had quietly stepped down rather than face a Board. The restructuring this forced had taken years to fall out totally.

One of the results had been a lot of young officers being promoted to higher positions. Fortunately for the navy, it had been a quiet decade, and the on-the-job training hadn't cost innocent people their lives. The elevated young officers had, for the most part, met the challenges placed before them with zest and skill, though the senior enlisted men, most of whom avoided catching official displeasure durring the investigations, had taken to quietly ribbing their young charges: the standing joke was that they'd added potty-training to the Officer's Sylabus at the Academy.

Chrono had been one of those young officers, first moved from his Enforcer's roll to command track to fill holes and then, in a combination of his own raw skill, a touch of patronage thanks to his mother's position, and the public view of him as a square-jawed young crusader for Truth, Justice, and the Mid-Childan way, had elevated him to flag rank. Every so often he thought about that, and how much it must have hurt the bureaucrats to promote him. He wasn't so mature that he didn't smile at the thought.

And so here he sat, in command of a flotilla of half a dozen warships at the grand old age of twenty-five. They'd squelched some pirates who'd been using the excitement of Scaglietti's attacks to mask their own raids. The leader of the pirate force had been downright livid – he felt it entirely unfair that they would try to go back to business as usual so quickly after such a massive incident. Took the Navy doing its job of protecting people from scum like him like a personal insult.

But since then, nothing. It had been a long three months. Hopefully something interesting would happen soon, though hopefully not something bad.

Still.

He poured more tea. Unlike his mother, he didn't add sugar or milk to it, preferring it clear. Something felt a bit off. He'd developed a well honed sence of trouble, and it was currently telling him that something odd was going on. He didn't think the problem was aboard ship, but he was still on edge. He'd asked the sensor operators to be more careful than usual, hoping it would help.

Chrono wasn't surprised when one of the sensor operators started gesturing for assistance. The three specialists bent over their boards and concentrated on whatever they'd picked up. He finished his cup of tea and walked over to them. This should be interesting.

"Ladies. What do you have?"

Lieutenant Keller looked disturbed. "It's a breach. A breach of the dimensional wall."

Eyes widening, Chrono looked over the reading. It was a breach all right, a big, ugly one. "Call this in."

--------------------------

"Put the unknown on screen," said Janeway.

The ship apeared, a small green vessel. The design was unusual – three spheres in a row. It seemed to be some kind of runabout. With deceptive grace it changed course and began to approach.

"The unknown is hailing us, voice only," said Ensign Kim, his tone more relaxed as he went over his scans. If nothing else, this unknown would be essentially incapable of damaging them. It wasn't even armed.

"Punch it up."

There was a brief moment of transmission crackle, then the strange ship's crew spoke in a voice of bravado. "This is Acting Senior Officer Arnold J. Rimmer of the Jupiter Mining Corporation vessel _Star Bug_. Listen close because I will only say this once." He paused, and Chakotay and Janeway exchanged bemused glances. "We surrender. Absolutely, totally and unequivocally." Another pause. "By the way, sorry for the inconvenience." There was a sound of a brief scuffle, and then another voice spoke, thick with an accent that Janeway could only vaguely recognize. "Sorry 'bout that. Rimmer's something of a smeghead, he can't help it. This is Lister, welcome to our little patch of deep space."

"This is Captain Kathreyn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager. This may sound like something of a strange request, but where exactly is this little patch of deep space?"

There was a moment of silence, then the sound of frenzied searching in the background. "Eh, half a mo'... pullin' up the ol' logs now... Okay, current position is 24572 by 33258 by 54211, give or take a dozen kilometers."

Confused silence settled on _Voyager_'s bridge.

"You use a different co-ordinate system, don'cha?"

"Yes."

"Smeg. You, uh, wouldn't happen to have a spot we could dock at, would you? We could give you a copy of our charts, that might help. We could use some spare parts in exchange."

"Couldn't you just transmit those charts?" Some sixth sence was whispering to Janeway to be cautious, that she would come to regret allowing these people aboard her ship.

"Those spare parts we mentioned?" The voice sounded chagrined. "We nicked some bits out of the comm array t' fix up the oxy-generation unit yesterday. Voice com is about all we can transmit right now."

Chakotay shook his head and tried not to laugh. Paris was less successful, though he kept the volume low enough that it didn't transmit. What a way to run a ship. If they really were in such dire straights, helping them a bit in exchange for their starcharts would probably do no harm. "Mister Kim, will that ship fit in the main shuttle bay?"

"I believe so, Captain, though we'll have to shuffle the _Delta Flyer_ to the port bulkhead to fit them both."

"Tom?"

The lanky lieutenant was already heading for the turbolift. "No problem, Captain. I'll get it out of the way."

"Well then. _Star Bug_, can you detect our landing beacon?"

Another short pause and snatches of conversation. "Yeah, we got it. Cheers, Captain, we'll be there shortly."

Cat had raced for the sleeping quarters to prim himself the second the transmission ended. He was going to look his best for this, in the hopes of impressing as many of the females on this new ship as possible. Truth to tell, Lister wanted to do the same, but Kryten was a lead-fisted pilot and Rimmer's Soft Light holodrive couldn't work the controls at all. The docking bay they were going to land in was technically big enough to fit the _Bug_, but there was less wiggle room for them than the cheap seats on an Air France economy flight.

He was being very cautious bringing the ship in, the thrusters dialed down to a minimum. If Kryten's scans were correct, he had a shade under one meter of vertical clearance in this bay, and even less horizontal. He had the _Bug_ down to a slow crawl as it entered the bay, inching his way inside, painfully aware that the rear fins were bare decimeters from the bay's roof. A glance showed two crewmen in a control booth at the back of the bay, he spared a moment for a wave, then concentrated on his thrusters and readouts to avoid making an ass out of himself.

Tom watched the ugly green ship ease into the shuttle bay. "I've never seen a ship so aptly named," he muttered. The ship was huge- larger than anything he himself would like to try landing inside a bay as small as than _Voyager's_. Still, whoever the pilot was, he was handling the ship with respectable skill. Accompanied by the sharp hisses of some kind of gas-based maneuvering jets, it eased to a stop, nose perhaps a quarter of a meter from the bay's rear wall, and set down lightly on its spindly-looking landing legs.

There were a few moments of additional outgassing from the ship, then its telltales winked out. Looking around a bit, Tom spotted a hatch, halfway along the port side. There was a distinct clunk and a hiss of equalizing pressure as the hatch opened, and then someone exited the ship. As the stranger clambered down the flimsy-looking gantry, Tom took in the sight. Long, black hair pulled back into dreadlocks and topped by a fur-lined black leather hat, leather jacket with half a dozen patches on it, some kind of coveralls that had probably started out life as white, and what looked like a pair of honest-to-god combat boots.

He reached the bottom of the ramp, saw Tom, and extended his hand, smiling. "Dave Lister."

Tom hesitated for a moment, then shook the shorter man's hand. "Tom Paris."

"Paris? Fancy meetin' a city way out 'ere. Kryten's loading our navicomp logs onto a disk right now, should have it ready in a mo'."

"Thanks. And the rest of the crew?"

Dave glanced back, saw that none of the other crew had left the ship yet. "Rimmer an' Cat're probably getting themselves tidied up, gonna try and impress the ladies."

"And you?"

The shorter man gave a cockeyed grin, gestured as if to say 'look at me.' "No real point, is there?"

Tom couldn't help it, he snorted with laughter.

An arrogant voice sounded from the ship's hatch. "There really isn't, meladdo."

Without turning, Dave said, "Speakin' of, Tom Paris, meet Arnold J. Rimmer."

Descending the gantry was a thin, slightly weaselly looking man in what looked like nothing so much as an old earth naval dress uniform. The only thing spoiling the look was some kind of 'H' tattoo on his forehead. "Acting senior officer Rimmer?"

"And don't you forget it. I need to speak to an officer of this ship, be a good chap and find me one."

Tom crossed his arms. "Lieutenant Tom Paris. What can I do for you?"

Dave chuckled as this Rimmer visibly deflated. "I, er, um, nothing sir."

Tom shook his head. "Is he always like this, Dave?"

"Usually. An' please, call me Lister." He looked back at the ship. "I wonder what's taking Kryten so long?"

Tom followed him past the beet-red Rimmer and into Star Bug. They made their way into the common area, and Lister headed for the cramped-looking cockpit. Tom looked around. The place had the look of a shared bachelor's apartment, one where only a single resident gave a damn about cleaning up, and was slowly losing ground to the mess. The air was stuffy with an undercurrent of sweat, and cut with the smell of dangerously spicy cooking. From up the stairs he could hear someone muttering and rummaging through something.

Lister came back from the Star Bug's cockpit, followed by an obvious android of some kind. "Tom, meet Kryten. Kryten, Tom."

The android put a hand out. Tom shook it. "Greetings mister Tom sir."

"Just Tom." He glanced at Lister. "I'm a bit surprised to see an android, that kind of tech isn't common where we come from."

Kryten frowned slightly. "Actually, sir, I prefer the term Mechanoid. We are mechanical life forms, not human-like robots."

"Uh, no offence."

"Old legal battle back 'ome. After we were lost out 'ere, but before Kryten's time," said Lister by way of explanation.

"In any event," said Kryten, "When I left earth, Mechanoids were fairly common. I myself am a DivaDroid 4000 series service mechanoid. And I also have downloaded the navigational logs." He held up a small disk. The style wasn't familiar, but Tom was sure that between Torres and Seven, they'd figure it out.

"Thanks, we appreciate the help."

"There anyone we talk to for parts, or should we just make a list for ya?"

"We can talk to the Captain about that. I'm sure we can spare you something." He thought of something. "Any of you doctors?"

"No, mate. We've been lucky in tha' respect, haven't needed one."

"In that case, we should probably start by heading down to Sickbay, let the Doc take a look at you."

Lister shrugged. "Fair enough. Your doc a nice one?"

"He's decent enough these days. His programming didn't start with many social skills."

Lister froze. "Programmin'?"

"Yeah. He's a medical hologram."

Lister looked downright pale, exchanged looks with Kryten.

"Is something wrong?"

"T' last hologram doctor we met was a few boards short of a house. An' she tried t' kill us."

Tom barked a laugh. "No worry about that. The Doc's harmless. Well, mostly harmless."

"Tha' doesn't fill me with confidence."

"It'll be fine. Trust me."

They'd made it as far as the hatch from the shuttle bay before running into Chakotay – Captain Janeway was down in Astrometrics with Seven working on an analysis of their last jump and had sent him down to meet them. Chakotay had sent an ensign to run the disk to them, and spent a moment talking with Lister and Kryten. Rimmer and someone Lister had introduced as 'Cat' joined them shortly thereafter, the former now dressed not in naval finery but in slacks and a tunic that seemed to change colour depending on what direction you were looking at it. It switched constantly between red and green.

The one called Cat was an interesting one. Dark skinned, he looked exotic and somewhat feline. He was dressed in a glossy black-and-red suit. He'd tried to flirt with several female crewmembers who'd wandered by and seemed unflapped by his utter failure thus far. If he hadn't been so crass, it would be entertaining to watch. For now, though, the motly crew of Star Bug was in their care. Tom and Chakotay led them to sickbay and made small talk. Tom found himself liking Lister, for all his scruffy ways he seemed a genuinely decent sort of guy.

Rimmer was, perhaps inevitably, complaining.

"I don't see why you need me to go to sickbay. I'm a Hologram. I can't get sick."

"Except for that one time," said Cat.

"Gotta admit, 'e looked smashing in tha' outfit."

"What?" Chakotay was morbidly curious.

"He got a holo-virus from the mad hologram we mentioned earlier. Went right 'round th' bend, tho' we destroyed the virus curing 'im."

"Holo-virus."

"Yeah."

"You must be joking."

"Nope."

"I have all the files on it in my database, sirs," said Kryten, "Should you wish to learn about the incident in detail."

"I don't see why you're making such a big deal of this. That was a long time ago, and there was no harm done in the end." Rimmer sounded even more peeved than normal.

"Other than the damage to my chasis from the fire axe, sir."

Chakotay and Tom exchanged glances, then stopped. "You're sure the virus was eradicated?" the tattooed man asked.

"Absolutely. We didn't want 'im doing tha' to us again."

"Would you mind if we let one of our engineers take a look at him?"

"Yes, damn it, I would mind!"

"Go ahead, mate."

The Doctor was more than a little annoyed with his two newest patients. The one called Cat was a nonhuman of a type he hadn't seen before, and was going out of his way to annoy. He alternated between poking the doctor and sniffing at him, as if trying to divine a secret of the universe. The other, named Lister, was something of a medical conundrum. His system showed evidence of extensive and serious substance abuse. Alcohol, tobacco, various hallucinogens, and half a dozen carcinogens in his system. He was overweight and very clearly didn't have anything that even vaguely resembled a balanced diet. But for all that he was relatively healthy and seemed happy enough. Possibly, he'd been torturing his system that way for so long his system had adapted.

But his incessant blather was more than a little annoying, as was the distinct odor that surrounded him. His supposed assistant, Mister Paris, was bantering with the slobish fellow like they'd been friends for years. There was, he reflected for perhaps the hundredth time about Paris, no accounting for taste.

Lister'd been feeling a bit self-conscious since leaving the cargo bay. This was a fancy, well maintained, clean ship, full of fancy, healthy, clean people. He felt more like a bum than usual, among them. So when the Doc gave him.... not quite a clean bill of health, but less filthy than he'd expected, he'd jumped at the offer to use one of the ship's showers. When they told him the shower in question was in private guest quarters, he'd made a bit of a fool of himself, not quite believing it.

Sonic showers were decidedly strange, but not so bad. The lack of water felt bizarre, but it was lifting grunge from him, to the point where several patches of skin looked a few shades lighter than they'd been. He hadn't felt this clean in... god, he couldn't remember. No wonder their Doc was looking at him like he was a bit of smeg scraped off the deck. The sonics seemed to be massaging his muscles too, and feeling the knots work out of his system, he felt like a million dollarpounds.

He stepped out of the shower and stretched. Clean. It was a strange feeling. He thought he liked it. He could get used to this feeling.

Tom had shown him an auto-wash for clothes in the head. Lister had thrown his hat and jacket into it without thinking along with his boilersuit and such. With some terpedition he pulled the items out, half expecting the leather clothes to be ruined. He was amazed again at seeing they weren't. One of the beer-logo patches had fallen off the jacket, but other than that they looked fine. He smiled as he dressed. Even Kryten had dispaired of getting these things clean. He felt good. Smeggin good.

"Tom said you wanted ta see me, ma'am?" Lister tried not to be too obvious about his rubbernecking as he walked into Astrometrics. These people were massively more advanced than the JMC had been, though if he was being honest he could say the same about several fast food chains.

Captain Janeway looked up from the console. "Ah, Mister Lister. Thank you. I was hoping you could help me sort through some of these navigational logs. They're a bit confusing."

He shrugged. "I'll do wha' I can, ma'am. We don't much stand on ceremony on the _Dwarf._"

"The 'dwarf?'"

"_Red Dwarf_. Big ship, ugly as sin, bright red. Got an asteroid stuck into the port side from ages ago. Big JMC mining ship." He paused, thinking. "Fraid I can't remember when she entered service, but she'd been in space more'n a century when I signed on."

Janeway was silent a long moment. "That's your mothership? _Star Bug_ is just a runabout?"

"Sommat like that. There was a radiation leak tha' killed the crew. I was in stasis at the time, punishment for breaking quarantine, and I survived. Holly, the computer, took it out into deep space an' kept me in stasis till the radiation levels went down. 'E brought back Rimmer as a hologram to keep me from goin' strange. Cat was down in the cargo bay, one of the last of a race evolved from the kittens of the pregnant cat I'd smuggled in. She made it into the cargo decks before the radiation flooded the rest."

"And Kryten?"

"Picked him up about two years later. 'E means well."

"You said that Cat evolved... how long were you in stasis?"

Lister hesitated a moment. This always hurt. "Three million years."

There was a long silence. "How?"

Lister shrugged. "Holly kept me in stasis till the radiation died down. He ran the ship flat out away from Earth the whole time, till I told him to turn around when I got out. Dunno how the ship lasted so fuel lasted cos' the _Dwarf_ is a ramship, but..." He took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. "I couldn't just give up. I had to try to keep going, tho God knows I don't know what I'll do if we get back to earth and there's nothing there. For now, just find the _Dwarf_, an' keep scavenging wrecks in the hopes of a working stardrive."

"So you really don't have warp drive, or any faster than light drive?"

"They hadn't been invented when we left earth. They were by Kryten's time, but the ship he was on was wrecked when we found it."

"And he didn't know anything about how to fix it?"

Lister snorted. "'E's a service Mechanoid. 'E doesn't think its proper to know about maintenance an' such, says those are 'uman things, not Mechanoid ones. I'm t' one 'as to fix everything that breaks. Never was much for theory, but I'm a fair hand w' a wrench."

Janeway looked at him with a mix of respect and pity. Whatever his faults, Dave Lister seemed an honest man. One who was hurting because of what life had' dealt him, but was enduring. "I know a little about dealing with being far from home. We were trapped far from home by an alien who called himself the Caretaker. We've been trying to get home ever since."

"You 'ave my sympathies. An' there's someone aboard who brought you 'ere?"

"Yes. We've been trying to figure out how he did it by going over our sensor logs. At any rate, I'd like to ask about a few things in your navigational logs."

"Sure."

Janeway turned to the main screen, zoomed in to show the star system they were currently in. "This planet. You marked it in your logs as '_SS Esperanto_ – no go - damned squid.'"

"There was a telepathic squid there, tried to drive everyone us to suicide. It pulled it off with the _Esperanto_. We got lucky." He looked distant, troubled. "Anyway, we left there about a week ago. It's long behind." He thought for a moment. "For us, anyway. Please tell me you didn't send a ship there?"

"No, I hadn't, but I was curious. That's a week's journey for your ship?"

"For the _Bug_? Yeah. Longer for the _Dwarf_. We left it in high orbit when we went down there." A thought, "Hey, can your sensors see it anywhere?"

"We've seen no other ships within two lightyears of this position."

"Two lightyears." Lister looked poleaxed as he ran the math. "Smeggin' 'ell. Bloody smeggin' 'ell."

"I'm sorry."

"Better to know. D' you want to go through the rest of those logs now?"

"They can wait."

They'd spent three days in that system, pouring over the data gathered and planning their next move. Seven had come up with a device to try and direct the jump, and they were ready to try again. There was one last thing to take care of.

Janeway and Chakotay walked through the holodeck hatch and into Sandrines. Within the smoky room, Lister was lining up a shot on the pool table, Tom standing by with que in hand, watching him. Tom noticed them first. "Captain, Commander."

Lister took his shot, looked up. "Evenin' Captain." He nodded to Chakotay, who returned it.

"Mister Lister. We've been discussing your situation."

The Liverpool native nodded. "Yer ready to jump, ain'cha? Well, if ye could spare some parts, an' maybe some food an' fuel we'll be off."

Janeway smiled. "We'd actually like to invite you to come along. We're going back to earth, and soon."

"You'd take us along?"

"We like you," said Chakotay, "And so do the crew. Besides, you're even more lost than we are."

"Pity?"

Chakotay nodded, and Lister paused a moment in thought. "I can live with that." He thought for a moment. "Won't be the same earth, though, will it?"

"No, it won't. But you'll be welcome on ours."

"Tha'll do. Thank you." He half turned away, trying to hide tears. "Thank you," he repeated. "Tha's the first good news I've had in months."

There were more of them than normal on the bridge. Ryoga recognized the usual bunch, as well as Worf back with Tuvok, a man in a black leather jacket, and a tall blond wearing a catsuit that left nothing to the imagination. He looked away before he started fountaining from the nose. He walked to the helm.

"Before you start," began Tom, "We've cooked up something that should let us control the jumps, and get us home." The blond walked forwards, held up an item attached to an armband. It had a couple of blinking lights. He concentrated on those blinking lights to try and avoid looking at her breasts. Ladies got really offended when he did things like that. Fascinating shiny lights. Concentrate on them. Not on breasts.

She fastened the device around his upper arm. There was some kind of gray metal on one of her hands, surprised he looked up, then forced himself to keep looking up to her face. The breasts seemed to grab at his attention, though he was able to wrench his gaze higher after a few moments, before the blood was more than a trickle. Her expression was a mix of indifference and contempt.

"Sorry," he mumbled,turning back to the helm.

"Whenever you're ready, Mister Hibiki, please proceed."

"Aye, Captain," Ryoga replied, trying not to think about the gizmo on his arm. "Same as last time?"

"Yes. Lay in a course and engage."

Ryoga turned to the console. He figured he was getting the hang of this. Glancing at the screen and the readouts before him, he tried to lay in a course for a nearby world. Keying in vectors and speed, he braced himself for the pain of a jump and hit the execute button.

Anticlimax: _Voyager_ just started towards the planet in question without fanfare.

After a few minutes, Captain Janeway had him change course, and they tried again. Once more they just flew towards a point in space. Ryoga felt his cheeks heating. It had worked before, why wasn't it working now?

Tom watched things proceed for several minutes. He had a theory as to why this wasn't working. There was no science to what Ryoga did. They were using science to try and direct it, try and force it to do something. As far as Ryoga's curse, or whatever it was, was concerned, he was being led, and that was probably why it wasn't working. If he remembered Ryoga's stories, the kid got lost the most when he was distracted. So...

"Uh, trying one more time Captain. Uh, I think I'll aim for that planet again."

"Go ahead, Mister Hibiki."

"Aye, Captain. Executing."

As the red-faced youth touched the execute key, Tom grabbed his shoulder and pointed. "Ryoga look! Ranma!"

Ryoga whirled, lept from the seat and into a fighting stance as the ship gave its now familiar half-lurch as they jumped. The screen went to static.

Ryoga looked around the bridge, embarrassed.

Tom just smiled and checked his instraments. "Well, that worked."

--------------------------

Admiral Harlaown frowned at the image on the main screen. The breach was getting larger. There was what appeared to be a local ship hovering near it, probing it with sensors and widening the breach by pouring plasma fire into it. They were widening the breach by the most simple, brute force method available. Chrono's scowl tightened. This would have to be stopped, and quickly.

"Drop us back into normal space. Transmit a challenge."

The _Claudia_ shifted out of the aether and into range of the dark, cuboid vessel. Her own challenge transmitted simultaneously with one from the ship.

_"We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile." _

Chrono snarled. "Patch me through." The comm officer nodded to him. "This is Admiral Chrono Harlaown of the Time-Space Administration Bureau. Your actions are illegal and dangerous. Stand down at once."

The responce was immediate. _"Legality is irrelevant. Danger is irrelevant. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile."_

"Admiral! The Borg vessel is closing on us, and they're targeting weapons!"

"All hands, battle stations," he said into the intercom.

There were a series of green shimmers on the bridge. They were boarding. "Shields!" Chrono barked as he stood, pulling S2U from his belt, expanding it to Combat Form.

"We're getting reports of boarders all over the ship!"

"Mobilize the marines against them. I'll handle the ones on the bridge. Gunners! Target that ship and fire." He lept from his command station towards the nearest Borg. "Cartridge Load!"

The first drone went down before the opening blow, as S2U, sheathed in pale blue energy, cleaved through it as if it was made of soft cheese rather than flesh and metal. It dutifully uploaded its system logs of the attack to the Collective. The second fared little better, a melee attack bouncing off of a hitherto undetected personal energy shield just before the Inteligent Device eviscerated it. It, too, did its final duty, and here the Collective had its first note of unease, for the reading on the energy field that shrouded weapon and wielder did not match anything in their database, nor did they follow the collective's understanding of physics.

Chrono turned towards a group of Borg who were closing in on several of the bridge consoles. The one nearest him remodulated its shields using the Collective's best guess of a counter for his weapon's energy, the one next to it the second best guess. Even if they all died, it was of no consequence. There were thousands more on the Cube, untold billions in the collective. Eventually, they would master this foe as well. Resistance was futile.

Charging the Arc-en-Ciel would take time they probably didn't have, given that they'd already been boarded, so _Claudia's_ gunners didn't bother. Instead they powered up the ship's standard guns. Both broadsides powered up, mere line-of-site being no obstacle to magical cannons. The Borg vessel was firing plasma weapons at them and trying to grapple with some kind of directed gravity beam, both of which were being blocked by _Claudia's_ shields. Her cannons thundered once, twice, beams bending impossibly to seek out their target. They ignored the Borg ship's shields, venting their fury against the massive ship's superstructure.

The first volley blasted craters into the ship's rough surface, debris raining outward as magitech energies met mere mortal circuitry. The second volley bit deeper, penetrating into the ship's heart, tearing great gouges out of the metal. The gunners waited a moment for their screens to clear, the better to discern the scope of the damage they had inflicted. A third volley of mystic fire lashed out, and the Borg ship tore itself asunder with secondary explosions as blasts found power shunts and reactors as they tore the very core out of the cube.

A forth volley lashed out, rendering the few partially intact sections of the Cube into shrapnel, more as punctuation than anything else.

"Snipe Shot!" Chrono raced forward as he directed the blast, tearing through an even dozen Borg before dissipating. God, how he missed the rush of combat. He sparred with the Marines fairly often, but even the most powerful of them was barely a B-ranked mage. He had to hold back so much it wasn't even vaguely a workout. The only time he normally got a challenge sparring was against other Enforcers. He still made a habit of sparring with Fate whenever the two of them were in the same place long enough for it to be practical, which happened far less than either sibling liked, and while he no longer won their matches all that often, he made her work for it more than few other than Signum or Nanoha could.

He wasn't exactly going all out- not in his own bridge- but he didn't particularly have to care about hurting these bastards. The marines were making progress against the others, here on the bridge, he was almost out of targets. There was a knot of five of the things, and one lone Borg to his left. He ignored the one on the left for now, turned his attention on the cluster. S2U hummed with power in his hands. "Stinger Ray!" A burst of projectiles ripped the Borg apart. Like their companions, they disintegrated upon death, presumably to keep their tech from falling into enemy hands.

The last one was upon him, arm jabbing towards him and extending some kind of tentacles. He couldn't get a shield up in time to intercept, but the tentacles simply bounced off of his barrier jacket without penetrating. The sight gave the Borg pause, which Chrono used to dispatch it with a blow from S2U. "Bridge crew! Report!"

There was a chorus of 'all clear' as the various bridge crewmembers picked themselves up and dusted themselves off. Looking around it didn't seem that anyone had been injured, which was good. Chrono keyed the intercom. "Marines, situation report?"

There was a brief pause before the replies came in. The boarding action had been soundly defeated without serious losses. A glance at the chief gunnery officer answered his next question before he'd even asked, the woman's grin was wide and feral.

"Secure from battle stations. Signal the rest of the flotilla to move in and start analyzing that breach. We need to trace it and close it. I'll draft a report to Higher."

They were safe, for now. It was time to figure out who or what had caused this breach, and then they would deal with him.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the various universes this fic meanders into, this is a test of the emergency disclaimer system. This is only a test. In a real emergency everything would be on fire._

-Chapter 5 -

Admiral Chrono Harlaown frowned at the sensor reading displayed before him and stopped himself from rubbing his forehead.

The full six-ship task force was arrayed around the dimensional rupture in defensive posture. Over two dozen Borg ships had attacked them with single minded, fanatical determination and had been reduced to shattered wreckage. After the first six attacked solo to no avail, they'd massed up for a large strike of twelve that had threatened to break through his line before they'd defeated the cybernetic creatures. They were still repairing the damage to _Monette_. They'd brought up the Arc en Ciels at that point. After that, and the destruction of seven more Cubes that had been destroyed before they'd even managed to finish their opening hails, the Borg had backed off. The task force held station with Arc en Ciels held at full charge, and the amount of raw magic thus held was giving every mage in the fleet a headache, Chrono moreso than most due to his own raw power.

"If I'm reading this right," he began, guesturing past the sensor operator at her board, "There's a resonance of another tear beyond this one."

"Yes sir," she said, highlighting the relevant information. "It's physically separated from this one by about 0.6 light-years, but I can get a fair reading of it due to the scale of this breach. It appears to be smaller than this one."

Chrono sighed. "Well. That kills our primary theory." Based on the raw size of the breach, they'd been theorizing that a ship had tried to jump using a primitive dimensional drive, that failed catastrophically mid-jump. Another breach of similar characteristics neatly killed that theory.

"Yes, sir," she said, sounding almost defensive.

"I'm glad you spotted this. If you hadn't whatever is making these tears would have continued. The problem would have gotten completely out of hand before we could do anything about it."

--------------------------

The USS Voyager sat in orbit of a barren world as they sifted the sensor data of their last jump.

They'd done a brief survey of the system they had found themselves in, then had moved to the greater question of where it was. Seven had been busy in Astrometrics, and had determined that wherever they were, it was also not the right galaxy. Whether or not they were in their own universe or timeline wasn't something anyone really wanted to get into. Star Bug had been, at the very least, from another timeline, and they suspected Chimera was as well. It was a toss-up whether or not Ryoga was from their own timeline – the youth's knowledge of current affairs or local history were limited almost entirely to the realm of martial arts, and Voyager's history files couldn't confirm or deny any of it.

They had no real way to tell if they were in their own timeline without finding an inhabited system and asking a local. No-one even wanted to speculate how long that could take, so for the moment, they were concentrating on physical co-ordinates. They were amassing a great deal of data on the jumps, and with a little luck they'd be able to genuinely control the next one. Whatever was causing them to travel space and time, the results were easily visible on their sensors and they would eventually harness it and get themselves home, or so they fervently hoped.

It would be bitterly ironic if they got home only to be arrested by Temporal Investigations for mucking around in other timelines. According to Nelix, more than a few of the crew firmly believed that was what was going to happen. Apparantly there was a pool going.

They'd been fortunate this jump- there were no hostiles in the ship they'd found themselves in. One of the outer planets, a gas giant, had been inhabited with strange creatures – intelligent gasbags who called themselves Slylandro. They'd spent a long and rather interesting day conversing with the creatures – they had an oral historical tradition that stretched back millenia, lacking any way to physically record data – but ultimately moved on. Much as they found the creatures fascinating, after the events of the last week or so, even the most ardent Starfleet explorer would be inclined to concentrate on finding the way home.

They would be ready to jump again soon – Torres and Seven were busy manipulating the control device, determined to engineer it into something that could direct a jump back to the Alpha Quadrant.

-----------------------------

"Admiral! Transmission from HQ."

"Patch it to my station."

A screen popped into existence ahead of his right armrest. There was a moment of holding pattern on the display, then it resolved into Colonel Yagami. Chrono tried to keep his expression neutral. He had nothing against Hayate Yagami as a person, he really didn't. She'd been every bit the victim of Graham's betrayal as he was. But he had a hard time forgetting what she'd done, or what the cute little Unison device sitting on her shoulder used to be. "Colonel Yagami. Reinforce. I take it you've seen my report?"

Hayate smiled. "Yes, Admiral. I understand you've nearly finished sealing the first breach."

"We have. It'll take another..." He glanced at one of the secondary displays around the command station, "Twenty-five minutes. The Genevive has reported back from scouting the far side since my last report."

"Excellent! Their findings?"

"That one is significantly smaller than this one, and there appears to be a third breach beyond it. We're speculating that this is someone from a race just discovering dimensional drive technology and these people have stolen the prototype, since they don't seem to be trying to head home."

Reinforce piped up. "Could it be a test run?"

"It's possible, of course, but they would almost certainly return to their universe of origin rather than continue further away. Given what this thing has done so far, we'd have detected earlier tests."

Hayate appeared to be looking at another screen. "It must be a terribly primitive drive method."

"Agreed."

"And you don't think it was these 'Borg'?"

Chrono shook his head. "They were trying to widen the existing rift by pouring energy weapons fire into it. If they had the tech to create it in the first place, why bother with that?" He shrugged. "My guess is they were in pursuit of something else, and were trying to brute-force their way through the rift."

"Logical," said Hayate, nodding. "Do you have a plan?"

"I'd like to track down who or whatever is doing this. We'll gather additional data and close these rifts before anyone else can copy it. This technology is far to dangerous to leave in the wild. Also, if possible, can you pass our readings on this rift to Yuuno? If anyone can find a match it's him."

"I'll pass your request to the High Command. We'll be in touch."

"Thank you."

Reinforce waved cheerily as the connection cut.

Chrono sighed. Now to wait. He caught himself rubbing his forehead tiredly. Damn. They needed to decide what they were doing about this. He hoped the damned bureaucrats would let him solve this problem now before it became too big for anyone to handle.

-----------------------------------

Ryoga winced as the now-familiar pain of jumping passed. It was like getting hit by Taro - not crippling but not pleasant. He hoped they figured things out soon, he didn't want to keep doing this if he didn't need to. He stood, shook Tom's hand absently as the taller man took the seat, and started walking for the turbolift, his keepers falling in beside him.

"Thank you, Mister Hibiki," said Janeway. "Lieutenant Ayala, if you'll help him below?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Tuvok said, "All defensive systems are operating normally, Capt-" he suddenly froze, midsentance, then collapsed. Worf was at his side in seconds, checking his pulse and pulling out his tricorder.

"Tuvok!" shouted Janeway, concerned. "Commander, what is it?"

"Unknown, Captian," the big klingon said, voice tinged with concern. "He seems to be going into shock."

Ensign Kim looked down at his sensor board in shock. "Captain! Sensor contact, medium range. It's some kind of ship, but I don't recognize it."

"On screen."  
It took a moment to discern the ship from the starfield, for it was a thing out of nightmare. A shape like a spider with too many legs, a black so deep as space itself shot through with purple veins that seemed to flow and pulse. It turned smoothly towards them, seeming as if it wanted to grasp them. A chill swept through the bridge, moreso than just its appearance this ship seemed to radiate menace, as if they were nothing but morsels for it to gobble up. Ryoga felt himself shift into a defensive stance, feeling an almost primal fear engulf him.

"Someone get Tuvok to sickbay! Mister Worf, please take the tactical station."

"Of course," he rumbled.

Lister raced to the fallen Vulcan and picked up Tuvok in a fireman's carry, headed for the turbolift.

"The unknown is locking weapons on us."

"Hail them."

Kim's voice was edged with panic. "They're ignoring it!"

The black ship fired a brilliant purple energy beam at them, stabbing stiletto-like into the shields. It flashed against them, a corona of fire forming around the point of impact. A shudder passed through the ship. At the tactical console, Worf rumbled, "Shields down to eighty percent."

"Red alert! Lock on and return fire."

"I am trying to lock on, but I am having difficulty. Their hull seems to incorporate some kind of sensor-dampening material."

"Best guess, Mister Worf. Ensign Kim, please assist."

"Aye Captain."

Voyager's phasers lashed out, red beams flashing past the nightmare ship to no effect. Another purple beam stabbed into the shields, rocking Voyager. As was inevitable in these situations, one of the displays at the back of the bridge died in a flare of sparks.

Worf grinned savagely as Voyager's phaser banks spat back fury with defiance. One of the beams struck the black ship and snapped off one of its legs. The ship almost lurched away, the stump of one of its too-many legs seeming to spew out some kind of liquid. The ship accelerated away, Voyager in pursuit, firing. Worf still couldn't get a proper target lock, but he managed to crease the central body of the ship with another phaser beam. The ship seemed to shy away from the blast, almost like a pained animal.

Phasers lashed out again, questing for the mottled hull, but failed to hit. The black ship continued to bob and weave as they tried to hit it. Another purple beam struck Voyager's shields and rocked the ship, then another of Voyager's struck home. The two ships gave each other distance, dancing around for positions of advantage.

At his station, Ensign Kim said, "I think I have it, sir. Try and lock on now."

Worf did, smiled in satisfaction. "Torpedo lock gained, Captain."

"Well done, Mister Kim. Fire!"

Two photon torpedoes flashed towards the target as it lined up for another run. A purple beam stabbed through the shields and swept into the hull itself, alloy parting before it like wax before a flame. It carved a furrow along the lower hull for most of a second before the two torpedoes slammed home on the ship's central mass like the hammers of some wrathful God, a tad over one-hundred megatons of fire devouring the dark ship like a spider in a candle flame.

"All stop." There was an audible, metallic creak as the ship decelerated. Worried looks sped around the bridge as the Starfleet officers tried to avoid panic. Starfleet ships didn't _make _noises like that. "Damage report!"

Ensign Kim looked at his console and swallowed audibly. "That shot cut a long furrow in the lower hull, Captain." Janeway and Chakotay made their way to his station, looked at the display. The tattooed man cursed quietly at what he saw.

"What did they hit us with?"

"I'm not sure, sir."

---------------------

Orders had come through to go in pursuit of whatever had caused the breaches. Chrono was almost surprised. True to form that no bureaucracy was capable of getting things totally right, he was to leave the task force under Commodore Klynchuk, who would return to their patrol, and pursue in _Claudia_. They should be able to seal the breaches themselves, at least, it would simply be a question of time.

The first breach they came to alone was unwatched. Chrono was glad, he'd been worried about the possibility of local trouble with the others, given the fight they'd had around the first. They scanned the breach as they worked, sending the data back to HQ to aid in the search for who had created the damned things. Chrono was confident they'd figure it out: Yuuno Scrya was probably the best researcher the TSAB had ever hired. If anyone could track down a match for these energy readings, it was Ferret Boy. The Admiral smiled to himself. One of these days he'd have to mature to the point where he let that one go.

Still. They had a job to do. The _Claudia's _sensors had plotted where this breach led, it was time to seal it and move on.

------------------

_Voyager _sat near the system's edge, pretending to be a hole in space.

They'd put as much power as they could into the structural integrity field and proceeded with care at warp three to the edge of the system, then went dark and began to work on repairs. The damage to the hull was immense: the beam had carved a furrow fifty meters long, three meters wide, and ten deep along the lower hull. It had also taken a small bite out of the main deflector.

The blast had exposed several crew quarters to space as well as one of the cargo bays. Thank some beneficent deity – the quarters had been empty, the crew at battle stations. No lives had been lost. The Chief was running the work party that was doing the delicate work of repairing the deflector while Carey worked on the hull itself.

Joe Carey hated EVA work. His boots were clamped to the hull and he took great care to not look beyond its curve, but that couldn't hide the weightlessness he felt. And the fact that a few of the people on his work crew were quite comfortable with EVA, floating freely and without apparent care, upside down and sideways to his vision, tied his stomach in knots as he watched. He tried to concentrate on the repairs.

The damage had been extensive. Four keel members had been cut clean through, which made this doubly important to fix right. It didn't help that they couldn't actually replicate hull-grade duranium in any kind of bulk. They were using the strongest materials they could, but they were going to have to make up for lesser strength with bulk, and that offended his engineer's sensibilities. They had a full work crew out here now, engineers augmented with a few strong bodies helping muscle material into place for welding. It was slow going, many of the crew out of practice with EVA or welding in vacuume.

One of the few workers whose vacuume welding wasn't rusty was, ironically, Lister. The grubby brit straightened up from where he was working, welding a reinforcing brace to one of the patched keel members. "Got this one, boss."

Carey clomped across the hull. "One moment, let me take a look." He swung through the gap and into the hull, ran his tricorder along the brace. The surface of it was a bit uneven, like the other welds the man had done, but they were solid where it counted. "Well done. The bead could be a bit straighter, but this'll do fine."

"Ye'll make an engineer o' me yet." He paused. "'ows this gonna 'old up?"

Carey hesitated before answering. "We're not sure yet. There was a lot of damage, and, well, the hull plating will probably be fine, but the way these keel members are formed, they're not intended to be field-repairable."

"Cast as a single piece?"

"Yeah. We're going to be bracing the hell out of these, but they won't be as strong as they were. It just isn't possible. If we do our jobs right, it'll be strong enough."

Lister nodded. "The' we'd better do it right, eh? Where d'ya want me next?"

--------------------------------

Tuvok had looked better, Janeway reflected as she walked into sickbay. "How are they, Doctor?"  
The balding hologram looked up from the crewman he was treating. "No major injuries, we were fortunate in that respect. A few burns, and one of the repair crews has sent me a few broken bones. Apparently they were moving a sheet of duranium plating and lost their hold on it." He shook his head, gave her a look as if to say, 'what can I do?'  
"And Tuvok?"  
The Doctor frowned. "I'm not sure. He and Vorik suffered no physical injuries, other than some minor bruising from when they collapsed, but something put them into shock. I've stabilized them, and they seem to be resting comfortably. I'd hesitate to wake them prematurely, though."  
Janeway nodded unhappily. "I understand. I want to know as soon as either of them wakes up, Doctor."  
"Understood. Now if you'll excuse me, there are a number of injured crewmen for me to take care of."

---------------------

The call came the next morning, interrupting Janeway from work on the navigational deflector. She made her appologies and hurried in-ship, then headed for Sickbay. The physical injuries were mostly repaired from the battle, and other than one of the science officers in for a checkup, the only patients were the two Vulcans. Both were consious, though only Vorik was sitting up, legs dangling over the edge of the bed as he sipped water. "Captain," he said as she walked towards them.  
"Ensign, Tuvok. How are you feeling?"  
Tuvok's voice was more strained than normal. "I am exhausted, but physically unharmed. The situation was... disturbing."  
"That ship certainly was. Have they told you about the damage it did?"  
"No, Captain."  
Vorik and Tuvok exchanged a glance, then Vorik said, "It was not just a ship, Captain. There was a... presence within it."  
Janeway was intrigued. "What kind of presence?"  
"It is difficult to explain, Captain. It was like some sort of devouring, corrupting shadow. It wanted to use us."  
Janeway shuddered. That did not sound good. She could hardly wait for repairs to finish so they could leave this place. "You two get better. I'll keep in touch."

"I'd like to keep them here for a few days, for observation," said the Doctor. "They've been through a lot and, as much as they are physically fine, they have been through some kind of psychic attack. I don't know enough about this kind of attack to say how long it will take them to recover, yet."

Janeway nodded. "I understand. Take care of them."

-----------------

The hull repairs had taken days but they were finally done, the rent in Voyager's hull repaired. Torres and Carey both were none too confident of its ability to hold up to further abuse. Repair work was ongoing, of course, putting crew quarters back together and running replacement power conduits. But they'd spent far too long in a system which could cough up black doomships with damnably powerful beam weapons. Whose presence did bad things to Vulcans. For all the senior staff would prefer to spend a little more time analyzing their last jump - they'd had little time to spare on that with everything else going on - the crew's mood was black and it was past time to move on.

They proceeded further out-system and found a quiet patch of space. It took several tries to jump – either the guiding device's attempts to direct the jumps were interfering with the 'curse' or Ryoga's attempts to use it deliberately debate went 'round the bridge a few times as they waited for the now-familiar half-lurch. He was expecting them to surprise or scare him now, making that tactic less useful. Finally, as his irritation with his failure reached a height, he succeded, taking Voyager to an unremarkable, nearly empty system. They settled in and prepared for the next leg of their journey.

-------------------------

Kryten wasn't bored, inasmuch as it wasn't possible for a mechanoid to become bored. That said, it had been a while since he'd done anything really useful, and he felt a need to be useful. It was core, both to his programing, and his faith. Guest or not, he would not risk his eventual place in Silicon Heaven by failing his duties now. Though no one seemed to need his help, he would make himself useful. And so he was looking for out-of-the way corners of the ship and cleaning. Several Jeffries Tubes and the cargo bay the Borg woman lived in were sparkling clean. Now he was working on some of the less used parts of the populated areas of the ship.

Several of the crew had seen him as he cleaned corridors, and most of them seemed to find his cleaning apparatus, hooked up to his groinal socket, rather disturbing. Such was the lot of a common mechanoid in this world; unappreciated and unloved. The engineers had unanimously told him to stay out of their area and the Jeffries Tubes, and he'd almost run out of disused corridors. His own guest quarters were spotless. He needed to start on another area, and thus he made his way to the ship's brig.

The security guard on duty was not one he was familiar with, and reacted with typical human ingratitude at his entry. "This is a restricted area, you're not allowed in here."

Kryten smiled his most earnest smile. "I just want to do a bit of tidying up and dusting, won't take a moment."

The security guard weighed this for a long moment before coming to a decision. If all he wanted to do was clean the place up, it would probably be harmless. "Well... alright. Just don't take long."

"I'll be finished cleaning up before you know it." Kryten smiled, took the vacuum attachment, plugged it in, and started cleaning. He so enjoyed cleaning things. It was his reason for being, and despite Mister Lister's best efforts to teach him slacking and other bad habits, he could never really be comfortable with lazing around when there was work to be done. He started whistling an old cleaning-service company's advertisement ditty.

The guard was looking at him with a vaguely disturbed expression. Muttering something about needing a drink, he excused himself and left the room. The security guard trusted him! Perhaps his efforts were being recognized and appreciated? Kryten felt a swell of pride, then ruthlessly pushed it down. Pride was a sin. Cleaning was his duty, to be preformed in this life by Mechanoids, and in Silicon Heaven by the humans who they once served. His reward would be then, and for now he would be humble.

He finished the main room quickly, then turned to the cell. They'd been keeping a teenaged male in there for almost two weeks now. All his imperatives told him that the cell would need cleaning, and badly. "Good morning, sir! Would you mind if I quickly cleaned up your room there?"

Ryoga replied distractedly, trying not to look at anything below Kryten's chest level. The mechanoid touched the controls and the force field dropped with a shimmer. Kryten stepped through the threshold and started vacuuming.

Ryoga stood and mumbled, "I think I'll just stretch my legs a bit." Trying hard to not look at Kryten's cleaning gear, he shook his head and stepped over the threshold. Kryten heard him mutter something in Japanese that he didn't understand, but it didn't mater. This cell definitely needed a tidying up. Whistling happily Kryten vacuumed out the small cell, then quickly tidied the 'fresher and straightened out the bedding. His task completed, he turned and began, "There we go sir, all tidied..."

The rest of the room was empty. Of the young martial artist, there was no sign. Quickly reviewing his audio logs, Kryten hadn't heard the doors open. Kryten had lost their prisoner. This was not going to end well.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the various universes this fic meanders into, this is intended entirely as a tribute and entertainment._

-Chapter 6-

Ryoga liked roads. They made crossing ground easier and if he could follow a road long enough it generally lead him back to Tokyo after a while. Or at least to someplace civilized and moderately welcoming. He smiled at the bleary memory of two nights spent in Germany last october. He'd impressed the locals with the amount of alcohol he could put away without killing himself, and the food had been great too. Something else had happened that night, but the memory had been obscured by the drinks.

This, however, wasn't a good road. Dirt and mud and ruts, more of a cart path than anything else. Still, it was something to follow. He hoped it would lead him to a town. His pack was almost empty of food, thanks to his previous hosts, and he was stuck for now with finding town or foraging. And foraging in unfamiliar territory, while not exactly something he was unfamilier with, was seldom easy, and he was tired. Whatever was happening with his curse was taking a lot out of him, and the weather was closing in.

When he managed to track Ranma down, he'd beat him to within an inch of his rotten life. This was all his fault, Ryoga just knew it.

-------------------------

"You're sure?" Janeway's eyes lit up with hope.

"Yes, Captain," said Seven-of-Nine. "I rechecked the data twice before contacting you. I am aware that we do not want to bring up false hopes."

Janeway closed her eyes, exhaled slowly as she tried to calm herself. "Show me."

Seven's fingers danced across the control panel, and the starscape on the screen shifted, zoomed in on one system. "We are here. The system is unnamed and has only a catalogue number: JL-144, first surveyed by the Klingon Empire roughly one hundered and twenty years ago. No known habitable planets or strategic resources." The view expanded, part of the starscape gaining colour as a map drew in. Another system was highlited, the three-bladed Klingon crest beside it. "Qo'noS is here. We are in the Alpha quadrant. From the Federation perspective, we are beyond the Klingon Empire. Roughly two months journey to Earth at the speeds we can maintain with the ship in its current condition."

Janeway's voice was thick with emotion. "We've made it. We've finally made it. After six years..." She paused, visibly collecting herself. "What date?"

"Based on comparison of the local stars to our records, I have been able to roughly estimate that it is currently late 2374. I am working to refine that data."

"2374." Janeway laughed slightly. "I guess we _will_ be hearing from Temporal Investigations when we get back."

"A distinct possibility. However, you will be home."

"Yes, I-"

She was interrupted by her comm badge. "Bridge to Captain Janeway." Chakotay had the watch and he sounded concerned.

"Go ahead."

"Another ship just... appeared off the starboard bow and are demanding to talk to us. They say we're under arrest for damaging something called the 'dimensional wall.'"

"On my way." She glanced at Seven. "Let's not announce your findings just yet. I think we need to deal with this little crisis."

Janeway stepped onto the bridge trying to convey a confidence she didn't quite feel. This wasn't the first time someone had tried to arrest them for violating laws they didn't know existed, and dealing with those kind of problems was seldom easy or quick. The fact that this came on the heels of realizing they were so very close to home made things... more frustrating than normal.

The ship was on the viewscreen, a long and lean vessel whose lines implied power and arrogance. "Report."

"They've identified themselves as the _Claudia_, and say they are affiliated with something called the 'Time-Space Administration Bureau.' They've ordered us to heave to." Chakotay happily surrendered the center seat to her.

"Mister Kim?"

"I'm having trouble getting a good reading of them. Their energy signature is massive, and the patterns don't match anything I have on file."

"Lot of that going around these days," Tom muttered at the conn.

"Hail them." She waited a moment as Kim worked the console. "This is Captian Katherine Janeway of the Federation Starship _Voyager_. I understand that you have some concerns about our recent activities."

The screen flickered, then showed a young, dark-haired man standing next to some kind of console. He spoke, "I am Admiral Chrono Harlaown. We've been tracking you for some time, across a number of dimensions. Do you have any idea what your dimensional drive has done?"

Janeway bristled slightly at the accusing tone. "I wasn't aware that we even had a 'dimensional drive.' We have been translocating through space and time, but not by some kind of special drive." She met his gaze, let that sink in for a moment. "If you would like to discuss the situation we'll be more than happy to do so."

The silence was a short one. "Fair enough. Would you prefer to meet aboard your ship or ours?"

Curiosity about the strange ship briefly warred with a desire to retain at least some advantage in the conversations to come. "Aboard _Voyager_. When would you like to come aboard?"

The young admiral glanced at something out of the viewer's range, nodded. "Would half an hour be all right?"

"Not a problem. We'll be waiting for you. Janeway out."

Admiral Harlaown looked even younger in person than he did on the viewscreen. Tom wasn't sure what kind of outfit this 'administration bureau' was, but they must be desperate for bodies to put someone in his mid-20s up to flag rank. He half-suspected that he wouldn't like it much – attrition was the most logical explanation.

Though the fact that he identified himself as a mage with dead seriousness probably meant that logic had little to do with it.

They'd transmitted the co-ordinates for one of their transporter rooms, and offered to transport. The Admiral had demured, using his ship's own gear, and seeing circles studded with runes and vaguely latinesque text had been more than a little interesting. It wasn't until their rune-circle appeared in the transporter room that it had sunk in that they were using a dramatically different tech base.

Chrono had come along with two others: an older officer he identifed as his second in command, and one marine guard, saying she was here as a formality more than anything else. The marine politely declined to hand over her weapon, an elaborate looking polearm. Chrono'd told her to power it down - they were, after all, guests – and it had collapsed from a six foot long weapon into a thumb-sized blue jewel on the end of a chain around her neck. Janeway and Torres kept glancing at it, clearly trying to figure out how it did that conservation-of-mass violating trick. Tom suspected that his wife would be needed a de-stressing massage tonight. He didn't mind at all.

They convened in the conference room. Their guests had listened patiently as they explianed the events of the last few weeks as best they understood them. Chrono, his first officer, and the marine had all nodded with resigned understanding when Tom mentioned that Ryoga had believed himself cursed. This did not reassure the assembled Starfleet officers. Even Tom, irreverent fan of bad twentieth century science fiction and generally not all that scientific, was finding the way these guys were just cheerfully accepting curses and magic as explanations a bit unnerving.

When they'd finished, Chrono nodded slowly, lost in thought for a moment, then said, "Thank you. That explains a lot of what we found, and why the breaches were so radically different in size. And this Ryoga Hibiki has left the ship?"

"Yes," said Janeway. "As of 2131 hours last night, ships time." She frowned. "Another of our guests let him out of the holding cell we'd been using to keep him contained." Tom felt a small pang of pity for Clemins, though it was tempered by the fact that they were probably stuck whereever they were now.

"Would it be possible for me to take a look at that cell? Some additional scan data might help us track him down, before he strands another ship like yours."

"Certainly. Although..." The Captain seemed to consider what she wanted to say for a moment, then continued, "We lucked out there. We've checked the starfield against our records. We're in our home dimension."

She had the undivided attention of every Starfleet officer in the room. Chakotay was the first to find his voice again. "How long have you known?"

"Seven informed me right before you called me to report the arrival of the _Claudia_. We're on the far side of the Klingon Empire."

Tom ran a little mental math and liked what he came up with. "So that's what? A month and a half, maybe two months back to Earth?"

"Roughly, yes."

Chrono smiled. "So this worked out for you. I'm glad to hear it."

Janeway turned back towards the young admiral. "Of course, we still need to discuss the fact that we've been arrested."

Chrono grinned sheepishly. "Don't worry about that. Under the circumstances, you couldn't know what you were doing was causing problems. We thought you had an actual dimensional drive. Without that, you're not going to be able to create breaches, and now that you know it was causing problems, I'm sure you wouldn't anyway."

There was an uncomfortable silence as the various Starfleet officers exchanged glances. The scientific types would certainly love to experiment with a drive like that – unfortunate side effects were the sort of thing you fixed in testing, not reasons to stop experimenting. Chrono shuffled in his seat.

The marine, Kelly, smiled. "We're not exactly in a position to critisize, Admiral. The Bureau's got more than a few incidents like this in its past."

Chrono nodded. "True enough. I'll put in a good word for you with the Admiralty."

Glowing rune-circles floated in the aid in the brig as Chrono poked around, scanning for several things. He'd explained what he was looking for in almost sensible, scientific terms. More than the runes, the scientific approach to magic was more than a little disturbing to the Starfleet types. Chakotay was halfway certain that the young admiral was making a bit of a production out of it, but he'd never be able to prove anything. As it stood, Chakotay found it hard to care. They were back in the Alpha quadrent. They weren't home yet, but there wasn't any real obstacle between where they were and Earth. They weren't under arrest or otherwise in a position where they'd need to take on another ship in their own wounded one. And as little as they understood what powered the _Claudia_, not taking them on was all to the good – it looked to be immensely powerful when they scanned it.

After a few minutes, Chrono put away the gizmo he'd pulled from his belt and said, "That should be the data I need. Thanks." The two of them started for the Transporter room.

"Not a problem," said Chakotay. "If I've understood what you've been saying, I can see why you're trying to track him down. But for our sakes, please go easy on him. He's litterally saved us something like forty years journey."

"We'll have to question him a bit, but from what I've heard it sounds like he was just as ignorant of what his curse was doing as you were. Mostly, we'll try and cure it to prevent this re-occuring." The young admiral shrugged. "Probably be an enquiry, and we'll almost certainly hit him with a bit of community service or something, but nothing too major. What we really want is the guy who cursed him, assuming this isn't hereditary or something."

"According to Lieutenant Paris, he blames someone called 'Ranma Saotome' for his curse, though Tom doesn't think the timeline adds up properly."

"Unless this 'Ranma' is a high-order mage, it probably doesn't."

"Acording to Ryoga he's a martial artist. You'd have to ask Tom for details, but from the reports he gave, he's not sure if this Ranma was Ryoga's best friend or his worst enemy."

"The two can seem rather similar." He gathered his thoughts for a moment. "Don't worry about him. The Bureau won't be doing anything drastic to him, we'll just be trying to find him and stop him from ripping more holes in the dimensional wall."

"Amazing what seven-hundred kilotons of metal can do, some times, isn't it? For what it's worth, we're sorry we contributed to the problem." Chakotay grimaced. "With the number of scientific geniuses on board this ship, you'd think we'd have been able to figure it out."

"Magic doesn't play by science's rules. You guys did well directing the curse to your home dimension."

Chrono and company were offered the nickel tour before they returned to _Claudia_. They accepted, and were guided by Ensign Kim while the rest of the senior staff worked out their course back to Earth. Harry was just as happy to be giving the tour as to be doing the planning. These people were interesting, and had a genuine enthusiasm for learning and exploring he'd encountered in few people who weren't in Starfleet.

The young Admiral seemed to be an interesting guy – it seemed he'd more or less grown up in the TSAB's navy. The Admiral and his XO both expressed interest in seeing more of the ship's technology, a curiosity to see how their particular non-magical tech base dealt with interstellar travel. They were heading down to Engineering now- B'elanna was at the staff meeting, but Lieutenant Carey should be down there now, and if not, Harry himself would be able to give a decent overview of things.

Carey was hip-deep in one of the control consoles when they arrived, catching up on maintenance. He'd been happy to be interrupted, put one of the other engineers onto it and started chatting happily with the TSAB officers. Kelly hung back from the others, looking alert but not terribly interested in the display.

"Can I ask you something?" began Harry.

The tough-looking woman glanced at him. "Sure."

"How does that.. staff weapon work?"

She fingered the pendant around her neck. "It's an amplifier as much as anything else. It helps me gather and direct magical power."

Harry thought about that for a moment. "So it's not, strictly speaking, needed for magic?"

She shook her head, made a gesture with her right hand, and it glowed a soft amber colour. "It helps a lot, though. In effective terms I'm not all that powerful without it." She shrugged. "Though compared to the average Marine I do ok."

"So if you're above average for the fighting arm of your service, but not that powerful..."

"Most marines aren't posted under mages as powerful as Admiral Harlaown."

Kim glanced at the man, not all that much older than he was, then back to the marine. "He's a," he hesitated, realizing what he was about to say seemed rediculous to his scientific mind, "powerhouse mage?"

Kelly nodded. "Oh yes. Put it this way- by the regs he has to have a bodyguard if he goes onto a ship controlled by another interstellar power. I'm the second most powerful marine in _Claudia_'s contingent. The thought of running into something so powerful that he can't deal with it himself terrifies me, because anything that can take him out would crush me like a bug. I watched his last Mage Rank promotion test- he tore appart a big chunk of the testing ground."

Harry gave the admiral a long, nervous look. "That's... impressive. He doesn't have a temper, does he?"

---------------------------

Chrono sat back in his office chair and relaxed. He'd found the tour of Voyager fascinating. For a group with no grasp of magic, they had built one hell of a ship, though the price they paid to do it... He shuddered at the thought of wraping a ship around a massive antimatter bomb. They were _nuts_. Though he supposed he should have tried to get ahold of some of that 'dilithium' for study- if there really was a substance that could dampen antimatter reactions, it would be useful to study for other possible uses.

Still. The thing they'd come here to find was gone. He looked at the reports from the sensor opperators and winced. Tracking him alone, minus the 700-ktonnes of starship, was going to be hard. The breach he'd created leaving was miniscule, and they couldn't get any kind of reading through it. He put that out of his mind as he wrote up his report. Figuring out where to go from here was a decision above his pay grade.

For now, he'd get his report off and get some sleep. It had been a frustrating day.

----------------

The announcement that they were back in the Alpha Quadrant - even if they were hell and gone past the Klingon fronteer - had resulted in entirely perdictable joy and total breakdown of the daily duty schedule. Nobody much cared, save for the poor bastards who got stuck at duty stations rather than join the various parties that had sprung up. The larger of them was in the mess hall, synthahol and snacks and a general joyful atmosphere.

The other party was down in Holodeck 2, in Sandrines. The small bar was packed to capacity, happy people laughing, talking, drinking, and playing pool.

Various crewmembers had taken a crack at the pool table over the last few hours, but to little avail: Dave Lister had been winning every game so far tonight, and showed no signs of stopping. Initially this had been amusing, even cathartic: most of the pool-enthusiasts on _Voyager_ had suffered similar defeats at the hands of Tom Paris over the years, and watching him get beaten handily had been a moment of great cheers. But as the night rolled on and the games continued, it started to sink in that no-one was even coming close to beating Lister.

He wasn't being a jerk about it, nor was he acting arrogant. Against a less skilled player he slowed his game, not to patronize but to get an enjoyable round of pool in before moving onto the next player. He was cracking jokes, swapping stories, and putting away an amazing amount of synthahol with no aparant effect. He'd made his brag at the start of the night - "I've played pool with planets before, mate," - and was certainly proving the spirit of the claim. And after he beat Tom and Chakotay with ease in a round of Cutthroat, the assembled crew had come to the consensus that he probably wasn't kidding.

Which had gotten a couple of the engineers into a drunken, rambling discussion about just how one would go about playing pool with planets. Harry had gotten into the mess a while ago and had taken a bit of time to try and convince Tom to back them up with the Captain, to try and do it themselves.

At that point, Tom decided it was time to find the one member of the ships company good enough at pool to beat the crazy brit. While the Captain was too dignified to be thought of as a player of so plebian a game, she was incredibly good at took a while to track her down – she'd been at the main party in the mess for a few hours before retiring to her quarters for the night. Fortunately she'd still been up when Tom arrived, doing paperwork at her desk.

"How can I help you, mister Paris?"

"We missed you down in Sandrines, Captain."

Janeway glanced at her desk chrono. "It's not even 2300 hours. I'm amazed the party broke up this early."

"Uh, it hasn't."

"Oh? Then what are you doing here?"

"Well, Lister's beating everyone at pool, and I mean everyone. I was wondering if you could come down and beat him for us."

"Pool, mister Paris? That's your game."

"Yes, Captain. But he beat me, and Chakotay, without trying all that hard. It's kind of a point of honour at this point, one of us needs to beat him."

Janeway's expression was bemused. "Mister Paris, I fail to see how a game of pool has become so important to the crew."

"Because we're losing. The honour of the _Voyager_ is at stake."

"The honour of the ship?" Janeway laughed. "May I suggest that you're taking the game too seriously?"

"Entirely possible," said Tom. "But coming down there and beating him gives us the happy end of the thing."

"Oh?"

"Half the engineering staff that's down there wants to try our hand at playing pool with planets like Lister says he has."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Playing pool with _planets_?"

"Yeah. But if you can beat him, it might defuse their enthusiasm for the idea. It's one-upmanship. If someone beats him, no need to one up him."

"Well. I'll have to do my best."

In the end, Janeway managed to take Lister two games of three. Even he was happy with the results of the challenge.

-------------------

Chrono awoke to his quarter's comm chiming. A glance at the clock told him that he'd only managed to wrest two hours from the sandman's clutches. Holding back a snarl, he hit the comm. "Chrono here. Report."

"Comunication from Mid-Childa, Admiral. Archivist Scrya says he has information that's important for our investigation."

Ferret Boy was calling him at this ungodly hour? It better be good... "Put him through to my desk console." He walked to the desk, shaking his head to clear it.

The display winked on, then switched from his screensaver – pictures of the wife and kids – to Yuuno. "Admiral Harlaown. Sorry to wake you."

"Archivist Scrya. Good morning. They tell me you have information?"

Yuuno got right to the point. "I've figured out the cause of your breaches."

Chrono nodded. "Ryoga Hibiki. Martial artist from Earth, suffering from some kind of curse."

The researcher stopped short, smiled crookedly. "Figures. I get lucky stumbling over a match in a document I thought my spell had grabbed in a glitch, and you nail down not only the family but a specific member. What happened?"

"He wound up on a spaceship. They got him to take the controls for a while to try and outrun some trouble, then kept trying to use his curse to get back to their home dimension. They tell me the last jump brought them home, then he managed to get himself lost without taking the ship along." A pause. "It was in my report."

"Ah." The younger man looked abashed for a moment. "I hadn't checked the comm traffic for the case."

Chrono waved as if to say, 'don't worry about it.' "What did you find?"

"A bit of old history, actually. About three hundred years ago a warlord named Senmitsuya Hibiki showed up on Mid-Childa at the head of a decent-sized army of Samurai and assorted irregulars collected from half a dozen worlds. He'd held a title on Earth in the nation of Japan, 'Shogun,' and got cursed by the nation's Emperor after screwing up a job and placing the blame for failure on one of his subordinates. Apparently, the curse was to make him always be lost until he accepted responsibility for his failure. He then cut a deal with a sorcerer to use the curse to lead his army to 'new worlds to conquer to carve out his own Empire.'"

"So he winds up on Mid-Childa with, what? An iron-age army with no mages?" Yuuno nodded. Chrono chuckled. "That must have been a quick fight."

"More or less was. We took him captive and according to the records tried to remove the curse. It gets a little muddled at this point, though I'll admit I'm no specialist on curses, it could be that this is really clear and I just don't understand the theory. Anyway, after the mess got cleaned up, it was decided that a fitting punishment for the would be conqueror was to send him back to his homeworld, without his army if they wanted to stay. Most of them did, apparently they were dissilusioned after hopping worlds a few times." Yuuno shrugged. "So they sent him home, and sent the various troops he dragooned back to their planets. The Magus Council was feeling generous at the time."

Chrono was thoughtful for a moment. "So the curse wound up being hereditary? Was that our doing or his Emperor?"

"If I'm interpreting this right, it was his Emperor's initial curse. Though the details on that are second hand, from one of his samurai who was less than impressed with his Shogun's actions. The Emperor was extreemly unhappy with him, both for failing and for refusing to accept responsibility for it."

"In his place, I probably would feel the same." He rubbed his forehead. "That was interesting, I'll admit, but it's almost a moot point. We can't get a scan pulse through the breach he's creating, jumping on his own. I don't suppose you found anything in there we could use to track him?"

Yuuno's gaze unfocused for a moment as he thought. "Possibly... Yes. The old records say that they used sympathetic magic to trace where Hibiki had come from. Did he leave any of his stuff behind?"

"Not according to the Voyager people, though I can double check.

Chrono managed to get the ballance of a nights sleep. When he awoke he returned to the bridge. "Any response from _Voyager_?"

"Good morning, Admiral. _Voyager_ reported that Ryoga took his things with him when he vanished. Oh, and HQ wants you to get in touch as soon as you're up."

"Fair enough. Open a channel please." A comm window materialized next to his chair, showing a holding pattern for a moment, then resolving into Admrial Villar.

"Admiral Harlaown. Good morning."

"Good morning, sir. You wanted to talk to me?"

The older man nodded. "We have orders. We're taking _Claudia_ off of this investigation." Chrono bristled, Villar silenced him by raising his hand. "This is not a critisism of your performance or your actions, but simply a re-prioritizing of the investigation. We got word from your duty officer last night that you had no items suitable to perform a sympathetic-magic trace of the fugitive."

Chrono nodded. "That's true enough. I'd hoped to consult with Archivist Scrya to see if we had another way to trace him."

"We do. Scrya has gone through the records and found mention of a person who could be used for a sympathetic-magic trace on his homeworld."

"Family?"

"Based on the nature of the family's curse it was decided that using a family member wouldn't work. He's found someone who'se fate is entwined with Ryoga's. Based on the information, I'm not sure if this fellow is going to be entirely willing to work with us, but the specialists think it will work."

"Interesting. What's this guys name?"

"Ranma Saotome. From what little data we have, he appears to be a martial artist, as is Hibiki."

"They're sending someone to recruit this Ranma Saotome person?"

"Yes. As he is a citizen of her home nation, Operations has brought in Nanoha Takamachi at her old rank of Enforcer for this. I believe you know her?"

"Yes, she was recruited during the Jewel Seed incident by my mother." Chrono smiled. "I made the initial contact, actually. She's an impressive mage, though I'm surprised Ops was able to drag her away from the Academy."

The older man shrugged. "They called in a favour. It helped that Takamachi's been interested in getting away from Mid-Childa due to the political fallout from the Saints Cradle incident, and they're between semesters at the Academy. They've also brought in Agent Harlaown to help with the investigation."

"Fate will be happy to be on another assignment with Nanoha."

Villar returned his grin. "Most likely. They're going to be using the frigate ___Pauline _as their transport."

"It should be fine, assuming they don't run into anything too dangerous." Chrono paused, then continued. "So. We're being taken off the case. What are our orders?"

"Rendezvous with the task force under Commodore Klynchuk and resume your patrol. We'll be in touch."

Chrono nodded. "Thank you, Admiral." He cut the connection and thought. Nanoha had been a combat instructor for several years at the Academy, after several years as a field agent and Enforcer. The last batch of new marines assigned to ___Claudia_had been products of her training. She was a ___very_good combat instructor, but most trainees and recruits dreaded getting assigned to her class. Nanoha had spent enough time in the body-and-fender shop in her own Enforcer days to know ___exactly_what Mid-Childan medicine could do.

The consensus among the marines was that you learned a lot about magical combat, but the _process_ of learning hurt. This made her students skilled and cautious - good fighters who tended not to do stupid things in battle. Many students would, he guessed, rejoice at the thought of the White Devil being away on a mission at semester's start, and would hope and pray for her mission to last a long, long time.

His sister would definitely enjoy a field mission with Nanoha. They were an excellent team, and were far too often denied the chance to work together. Hell, a mission with multiple people would be a nice change for her- she tended to get assigned to long, arduous long-range solo investigations on distant worlds. Doing something with other agents would be good for her even if she hadn't been assigned with a friend.

Briefly he wondered who'd be given the task of taking care of Vivio Takamachi, the young girl they'd adopted. Probably Yuuno.

He shook himself from his reverie and turned towards the bridge crew. "Spin up the dimensional drive. Signal ___Voyager_that we are about to depart. All hands, prepare to jump."

"___Voyager _acknowledges, Admiral. They wish us a good trip."

"Send them the same. Navigation, pull up the task force's itinerary and plot an intercept. Engage at your discretion."

-----------------

_The best thing about synthahol,_thought Tom_, ____is that you seldom have a hangover the next day._

The final concensus was that they'd head back to Earth via Qo'noS and pay a courtesy call, rather than just race through Klingon space- which the proud warriors could possibly interpret as a snub at a time when the Federation couldn't afford to aggrivate their allies - or going the long way around, which would have added a couple of weeks to the journey. Another advantage of paying a courtesy call at Qo'noS was that it was close - if their hull repairs weren't going to hold up for a two-month run, being able to put in to a proper shipyard after a week of shakedown run would be ever so useful.

Bel'anna had been vacilating between reserved and enthusiastic all morning. As she'd said to him, "I never thought I'd actually want to see the Klingon homeworld. Now? Now I'm looking forward to it- and not for any of the reasons my Mother wanted me to see the place."

Tom had hugged her close, kissed the ridges on her forehead. "I'm sure she'll appreciate the irony."

Now he was at his station, keying in the first leg of their journey. Once they made contact with Klingon forces, they'd send word of their arrival to Starfleet - _Voyager's _own gear would have trouble punching through the static and interferance of the Empire's own subspace traffic, they'd need to key into its networks. Their return from the far side of the galaxy far, far ahead of schedule would hopefully give a beleagured Starfleet a boost to morale - according to Worf they were around the later stages of the Dominion War.

They were taking it easy for now, only Warp 6, with plenty of power to the structural integrity fields. They were babying the damaged framing members. So far it was working out fine, and they'd probably be taking the ship up to Warp 7 soon if it looked like the repairs were going to hold up. From what he could see at his console, the two warp nacelles weren't trying to push out of allignment, so he figured they'd be fine. Still. He wished he could head up to Harry's station and get a look. Sure, the younger man not mentioning anything was a good sign that things were fine, but it would be easier on his mind to know.

Clearly the Captain agreed with him. "Report, Mister Kim."

"Structural repairs are holding, Captain, and the Structural Integrity Field isn't showing much in the way of strain."

"Very good. Any other ships on sensors?"

"None that I can see, Captain."

From the tactical station, Worf's basso rumble spoke, "It is possible that there are cloaked Klingon vessels in the vicinity. I am monitoring the scans for tachyon emitions as well."

"Thank you, Mister Worf." If Janeway found the Klingon as incongruous in Tuvok's position as Tom did, she gave no sign. Tom didn't have anything against the big Klingon, but he was so used to Tuvok that it was... unnerving. Tom hadn't realized just how much he had come to take the humorless Vulkan for granted. He hoped Tuvok never found out about it.

For a long stretch, the bridge was quiet, only the engines and telltales from the various consoles were audible. After an hour, the Captain checked in with Engineering, and Bel'anna gave her tentative blessing to bringing them up to Warp 7. Most of an hour later, Tom announced, "We're crossing the Klingon border, Captain."

"Thank you, Mister Paris. Ensign Kim, any sensor contacts?"

"None, Captain."

There was a grunt from the tactical station. Moments later, Worf said, "Captain, there should be a series of subspace marker beacons along the border, designating all behind them as Klingon space."

There was a moment of silence as the Starfleet crewmembers ran through half-remembered classes on their Klingon allies back at the Academy. "He's right," said Chakotay grimly, racing back to Harry's station. Tom glanced back over his shoulder. Harry's hands were flying across his console, as were Worf's.

"Double-check our position, Mister Paris."

"Aye, Captain." He checked the readings again twice. "Unless the sensors are malnfunctioning, we're past the border and on course to Qo'noS."

"Check for those markers." There was some steel in her voice - she was getting a bad feeling about this situation.

There were a few tense moments as the sensors quested outwards, seeking for the Klingon border markers. At his station, Worf barked, "Captain! Tachyon surge detected to port."

"All stop, yellow alert."

From the opperations console, Chakotay said, "Captain, I'm reading two Klingon Birds of Prey decloaking."

"On screen."

The screen shifted from starfield to a view of two Birds of Prey, the lean, predatory ships sweeping past each other and taking up flanking positions around the Voyager. Worf rumbled, "They are locking weapons."

"Shields up, red alert! Hail them, Mister Kim." There was the familiar tone of an opened channel.

"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship _Voyager_-"

The Klingon captain interrupted, dark, craggy features marred by scars and his face filling the screen. "I do not care who you are, Terran. Your presence on an armed starship in our soverign territory is a violation of the law of the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance. You slaves must have stolen that starship. The penalty for that is death."

Voyager rocked as the first volley of disruptor fire crashed home.


	7. Chapter 7

_Another bleedin' disclaimer. Usual stuff, I don't own the various universes and characters used here, this is not for profit, just for entertainment, and so on, and so on. Specifically, I don't own Megatokyo or the TPCD, Piro does, but I do enjoy reading about them._

-Chapter 7-

It felt good to be home.

Between one crisis and another, as well as training the recruits, it had been most of a year since Nanoha had set foot in Japan. She'd kept up with the family as well as she could with email and the occasional real letter, but she'd missed them. She'd told them about Vivio, though they hadn't had a chance to meet yet. Once this little crisis was dealt with, she and Fate would have to take some leave and fix that.

It had been longer since Fate had set foot in this country, the first place she could remember where someone other than her familiar had cared about her as a person, not a thing, a weapon or a proof-of-concept. It was good to be back.

They had discussed the matter on the way to Earth, and a quick email had confirmed it. Despite the urgency of the mission, they were going to enjoy a pleasant dinner and visit with Nanoha's family before teleporting to Tokyo and heading off to Nerima to find this Ranma fellow. Who knew when they'd manage to get back to earth again, as hectic as their lives were these days.

-------------------

The sun was vanishing behind the skyscrapers as the two made their way across town to Nerima. The streets were crowed, as they always were in Tokyo, but the crowds were pleasant and quiet. At some small, unspoken decision, the two decided to take a shortcut through a park, enjoying the patch of greenery after spending so long on a starship. A starship to which they would soon be returning, but still, they were quite enjoying this pleasant evening. The mission could wait until they reached Nerima. For now they had pea-

"Ooho! Hi there pretty ones!" a loud, cackling voice preceded a small blur of motion and a gust of wind. Suddenly, about twenty feet ahead of them a small troll-like figure stood, rubbing a pair of panties against the side of his face.

Nanoha and Fate were speachless for a moment as they watched the odd figure. Then, shock wearing off, Nanoha recognized the undergarmet in question and blushed crimson. "H-hey! What are you doing!" she spluttered.

The troll leered at them, then stuffed the panties in a small sack, and vanished in a blur of motion. Half expecting it, the two young women tried to dodge the rush of the perverted force of nature, but fruitlessly. Small, knowing, grubby hands groped both of them in a split second as he made off with their bras this time, tweaked a nipple, started bounding away across Tokyo, conveniently in the direction of Nerima.

They stood for a moment, shaking in impotent fury, then exchanged glances and nods. Urgency of the mission be damned. That little troll was going to die.

---------------------------

The latest in a series of rapid explosions rattled Usagi's windows as she dug furiously through her drawers for her henshin rod. Even halfway across the city she could feel the raw magical power of most of those blasts; who or whatever this youma was, the Senshi would face it and hopefully head off its rampage before any civilians got hurt. Her communicator started beeping at her. Probably one of the others, trying to co-ordinate their attack. She snatched it up. "Usagi here."

"Usagi! Hurry up!" It was Rei, impatient as usual.

"Trying to find my rod. Almost ready."

Rei snorted. "Just hurry up, we need to get moving before that youma kills someone. This one's throwing around a lot more power than usual."

"I _know_, Rei, I can _feel_ those blasts from here, same as you! I'm looking as fast as I can." Burried amid the socks she found the rod. "Got it, I'll be right there."

-----------------------

Happosai cackled with maniac glee. He'd not been so happy to have guessed wrong about something in years. He'd figured the two for magical girls at first glance, their ki had that feel, but he'd vastly underestimated their power. Their defences were quite good now that they were trying to kill him, and he basked in their auras as the blonde one swept in, scythe swinging for his head. She was easily the faster of the two, too fast for him to snag her empowered undergarments on the fly, but as much as he loved magical panties, he almost didn't care. This was the best fight he'd had in ages.

The brunette launched another volley of energy blasts his way. He managed to dodge them, and replied with a bomb. Before he'd grasped how powerful these two were, he'd taken one of those blasts to the chest. It had been telling, almost ending the battle early, but he'd recovered himself. And now he was having the time of his perverted life. Once more he tried to close with the white-clad woman, shrouding himself in the umisenken. He was ever so grateful that his normally useless student had created that little trick, and that his spine had been sufficiently flimsy that he'd been able to convince Genma to teach it to him with only a little threatening. In an instant, she ceased her barrage and threw up a shield, a burst of ki changed his jump to get him around it and, even as she realized he was inside her guard, cackling with glee he caught hold of a shapely thigh and snatched away her lovely panties.

"HENTAI!" she shouted, crossing her legs and blushing in rage and embarrasment. As the black-clad one raced to intercept him, she bellowed something and started charging up another blast. He dodged a scythe-swipe, reached fruitlessly for lacy black underthings, and waited for the telltale shout of 'Axel Shooter' that had preceded the magical girl's previous volleys. He waited a moment longer, absently dodging a smaller blast from the blonde, and realized that the brunette was still charging up whatever she was about to throw his way.

He noted, with suddenly growing concern, that the blonde was not hurtling towards him for another slash, nor was she charging an attack of her own. Instead she had taken a position just below the brunette, scythe held ready, her expression practically daring him to make another panty-grab pass. Energy was gathering at the tip of the white-clad girl's staff, intense enough that even someone with no magical skill whatsoever would be able to see it.

Happosai, posessing some small skill with magic and centuries of experience being on the recieving end of it, was flatly terrified by the raw power the young woman had gathered.

"DIVINE...." shouted the woman in white.

Happosai realized that his chance to dodge had passed. All he could do was try to block. This was going to be painful.

"BUSTER!"

A beam of raw, incadescent power flared from the magical staff's tip, streaking towards him laser-straight. His hastily thrown-up ki shield protected him for less than a second, then he was at the blast's mercy, hammered into the pavement. After a few seconds, the blast subsided. He felt as though he had been hit by a speeding semi-truck or two. What a woman...

Satisfaction drowned Nanoha's fury as she glared at the defeated little monster. His sack of 'valuables' had been torn open by her blast, scattering assorted underwear across most of a city block, and his black ninja outfit was in tatters. From a distance, he seemed to be out cold but not in danger of immediate death. She took a moment to will her outfit to repair itself. She and Fate exchanged satisfied nods, and proceded to land.

The senshi had only caught the tail end of the fight, but they had been amazed at what they'd seen. And the two strangers – other human magic users, though Ami's computer was having fits trying to classify their abilities. That said, it was a magic roughly similar to their own, and given what they'd just done, she doubted they were evil. Usagi and Makoto exchanged glances, then started applauding. The strangers turned towards them as the other senshi joined in.

"Thanks! We've been trying to take that creep down for months." Usagi was smiling widely.

The one in white smiled. "It wasn't by choice, but I doubt he'll be doing anything like that in the near future."

The senshi approached, Usagi exteneded a hand. "Sailor Moon."

The young woman in white shook it. "Nanoha Takamachi."

"What brings you to Tokyo? I can't remember seeing you here before."

"On a mission, we need to recruit some help from a local."

Rei spoke up, "Anything we can do? We owe you for taking down that creep."

"We're not looking for firepower, we're searching for someone and need a specific local's help to do it. Yourselves?"

"We live here. Short term, we protect the city from youma or monsters. Long term we're trying to restore the Moon Kingdom and bring in a second Silver Millenium."

"Well. Best of luck to you. We're under a bit of time pressure." Nanoha bowed slightly, her dark-clad companion did the same. Usagi and the other senshi returned the bow, watched as the two walked off and rounded a corner.

In low tones Makoto asked, "Are you sure it was wise telling them about our goals? We don't exactly know anything about them."

Usagi shrugged. "I think they're on our side. And even if they were Dark Kingdom goons, I didn't exactly say anything they didn't already know."

"True enough. Let's head home, we've lost enough sleep tonight."

The Senshi needed a moment to get their bearings – they'd rushed here in a sort of 'follow the explosions' style. They'd seldom come to Nerima on business before, Youma never seemed to show up here. The occasional false alarm, sure, but when they arrived on the scene, there was never any evidence of Youma to be found. They'd taken to writing off any and all alerts here as false alarms unless they got a strong, lasting signal.

It had been months since they'd gotten an actual signal.

Amy found a route for them, and they bounded off, heading home and calling tonight a general victory for decent folk in general and young ladies in particular.

------------------------------

Their files on Ranma Saotome were almost as sparse as the ones on Hibiki, but they included an address and a cryptic note that his romantic life was 'complicated.' The address turned out to be a good sized, traditional looking Dojo. Two people stood on the roof, a teenaged boy and girl in gis, watching the streets with concern. Almost simultaneously they both locked eyes on Nanoha and Fate, his expression one of concern, hers brifely the same, then shifting to one of anger. The male matched the photo on file for Saotome.

Ranma's eyes widened involuntarily as the two strangers floated from the streets with no apparent effort. Powerful magical girls. Joy. Akane was tense beside him, fear draining into anger as they watched the two strangers float towards them. Ranma couldn't blame her, he was more than a bit frightened of what these two could do, and if it came to a fight, an angry Akane would be more use than a terrified one. Though he was fairly sure that fear was fueling the anger.

After a moment, they were floating just off the roof. "Uh.. Hi."

The one in white bowed slightly. "I am Nanoha Takamachi of the Time/Space Administration Bureau. Are you Ranma Saotome?"

"Uh, yeah. What do you want?" He was uncomfortably aware of the glare Akane was giving him.

"We need your help to deal with a situation. An associate of yours, Ryoga Hibiki, is creating a series of disruptions in space-time."

Ranma's eyes narrowed at the mention of Ryoga's name. What had he done now? He glanced away from the two at the sound of approaching sirens. "Why don't we discuss this inside?" He was fairly sure everyone was awake by now anyway.

-----------------------------------

Inspector Sonoda was not happy. The week had been going well, no incidents of any real note. No major events scheduled for almost a month, the Tokyo Police Cataclysm Division was in a rare position of finding its work boring. They were even blessedly under budget. Until tonight.

Still, the TPCD took pride in its work, and the trail of destruction was being repaired fairly quickly. They knew it was some kind of MG attack, though they couldn't tell who yet. A completely unsheduled event, likely perpetrated by an unlicensed MG. The paperwork on this was going to be a bitch. They had neared the end of the trail of property damage, and a picture of the chain of events was taking form. Amid the scattered chunks of asphalt were several smaller, lacier things, radiating out from a crater in the middle of the street.

Sonoda grimaced and walked up to the crater. If the panties were still there then the bastard was probably still unconscious. Sure enough, the diminutive marshal arts master was lying amidst the debris, still out cold.

The Inspector thought hard for a moment, considering his options. Another TPCD agent arrived behind him, riding his patrol mecha. "Want us to just pour the concrete on top of him?"

"Tempting. Very tempting." Sonoda considered it for a long moment. The little monster created enough havoc that they'd probably not get into too much trouble for it... "Better not. With our luck he'd just smash his way out of it. Think of the budget."

The agent nodded, his mecha kneeled and reached down. As he lifted Happosai out of the crater he asked, "Any particular place you want me to put him?"

"Toss him anywhere," said Sonoda, then he grinned lopsidedly and continued. "Aim for the bay."

--------------------------------------

Akane Tendo was not happy. The strangers were damnably powerful and with motivations that were unclear. They could _fly_. The last time she saw someone who could fly, it was Saffron, who had come within inches of killing her. Two beings that powerful was frightening. Not that she would ever admit to fear. Not that she'd even feel it! And thus, as she stood there not-afraid of these strangers, she unconsciously pushed the fear out of her mind. It had to go somewhere. By instinct she pushed it into anger- from which she could draw ki-strength, as Ranma drew on confidence and Ryoga despair.

Whoever these two... harlots were, and whatever they were capable of, it didn't excuse Ranma's blatant flirting. To say nothing about her sisters! Kasumi was serving another round of tea, smiling politely; Nabiki was wearing that damnable sly grin of hers. Father and Genma weren't helping, practicly half asleep as they listened to the two strange women flirt with Ranma.

Where did he get off, doing things like that? Didn't he care that she was right here, listening to him? For that mater, given how certain he was that their little destructive rampage involved crushing Happosai, why was he being polite? Happosai was one of Ranma's masters in the Anything Goes school, he should be trying to defeat them, not chat them up! She understood her father and Genma letting something like that slide, they were both incredibly lazy, but she expected better of Ranma. And they were so crass! So rude! They had already said outright that they wanted to take Ranma with them somewhere. Why, by the Kamis, was she the only one not happy about this?

"So Ryoga's always getting lost because of some kind of curse?" Ranma thought he was so subtle in his flirting, in his leering, eyes dancing over them and talking about their little excuse for visiting.

"Yes. It appears to be hereditary, and growing stronger over the last few generations. It hadn't really caused any real problems for the last century or so, however." The brunette, who called herself Nanoha, had done most of the talking so far. The blonde, Fate, had mostly just introduced herself and gave all of them appraising looks. The almost contemptuous dismissal on her face as she'd sized up Akane had nearly set her off, especially as that appraising expression fixed itself on Ranma and stayed there. For now, Akane would be polite to the magically powered hussy, though she would do well to avoid any dark alleys in Nerima in the future. Akane intended to correct her assessment one dark night.

"And he moved an entire ship with this curse? That's crazy."

"Multiple times. That is what brought the situation to the Bureau's attention initially." Nanoha took a sip of tea, nodding politely to Kasumi.

The blonde spoke up, "Since then, he's moved on from the ship in question, and we're not sure where. On his own, he's hard to track, and we want to find him quickly, before he creates even more problems." Oh, she was good. She sounded so reasonable. Akane figured it was time to jam a stick into the spokes.

"And you need Ranma's help why, exactly?" she asked in a perfectly level and reasonable tone.

Ranma's expression was pained, Nanoha looked like she'd just been shouted at. Good, they had reason to feel guilty, the shameless toads.

The blonde, expression carefully neutral, replied, "Because Ranma and Ryoga are longstanding associates, their, for lack of a better term, fates are intertwined." Oh, she must have thought herself slick, playing her little word games and betting that no-one would be the wiser. "With Ranma as a focus for our scans, we should be able to track Ryoga, and hopefully catch up to him before he causes any more incidents."

"What do you plan to do once you find him?" Damn him. Flirting like a fool. Akane's teeth ground as she glared death at him.

"We'll return him here, after having getting some of our specialists to remove his curse so he can't cause future incidents."

Akane's face fell as Ranma and Genma's lit up. She'd lost this now.

"Wait, you have a way to remove curses?" Ranma's voice was ferverant, full of interest. At least he wasn't flirting anymore, but that was cold comfort.

"Yes. The Bureau's technologies can manipulate many kinds of magic; and we have several mages who specialize in curses. Even if we can't remove it outright, we should be able to weaken it enough that it shouldn't pose a problem." No, no, a thousand times no... by the gods she would going to lose him to this. To these sluts. She was torn between wailing in dispair and trying to kill them all.

"So..." Ranma glanced around the table, seized a glass of water. "Are we only talking about removing Ryoga's curse here, or could I get a curse removed as my payment?"

Nanoha and Fate exchanged glances, then nods. Nanoha said, "That sounds reasonable. What kind of curse are you talking about here?"

Ranma upended the glass over his head, shook the excess water from her hair as the two magical girls gasped in surprise. "This kind of curse. I got it when I fell in a cursed spring at a place called Jusenkyo in China. Warm water changes me back." Thoughtfully, Kasumi went to the kitchen, retrieved a pot that had been heating for the next round of tea. Nodding gratefully, Ranma changed back.

"I think something like that could be arranged, yes."

-----------------------

Ranma was staring through the ship's observation port, his expression one of genuine wonder, as he watched Earth circle majestically below. Even the teleport hadn't quite prepared him to look at his homeworld from space. He knew he probably looked like an idiot to these people, who lived and worked in space, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The two magical girls were reporting in; they would be leaving to parts unknown shortly. He had a feeling that this was going to be far, far stranger than his average journey.

Kamis, strange as his journey was going to be, what was Ryoga's like? Hopping planets was something the martial artist could barely get his head around. Hopping _dimensions_ he didn't want to even try and think about. How smart was his curse? Would it drop him in the middle of an ocean somewhere? Over a volcano? Hell, _deep space_? And even if it was kind enough to only toss him onto planets, what if it picked one where the natives were tough enough to take him down and liked pork? He was genuinely worried for the dumb pig.

He wondered where Ryoga had wound up, and hoped it wasn't too hostile.

----------------------

Ryoga focused briefly on the chunk of oak before him, then with practiced ease split it with a fingertip. He took a moment to break down the pieces into wood-stove size, tossed them onto the pile.

He hadn't had any local coin, and the innkeeper looked at his yen and refused to even consider taking them. Lucky for Ryoga, the old man had a woodpile that needed some work before winter. He'd been splitting wood for a couple hours now, making good progress and smelling a downright tasty-smelling stew cook up in the kitchen. It had been a while since Ryoga had done something like this, but after the last couple weeks, this was downright normal.

Even considering that this place seemed downright medieval in most ways. He thought of the outhouse and shuddered. At least he wasn't in freakin' space anymore. He shuddered, realizing how close he'd come to an indiscriminate, panicked breaking-point frenzy that would have dumped him into vacuum. Damn Ranma for getting him into this mess. Ryoga hadn't quite figured out _how_ Ranma'd done this to him, but he knew in his heart it was his fault. Probably worked a deal with a sorcerer or something to make his curse worse, as if the aquatranssexual hadn't already done enough to screw up his life. The next time he ran into Ranma, he was going to beat him to within an inch of his rotten life.

He lobbed another quartered log onto the pile, stretched. It had been a long day. Just then, the innkeeper popped out the back door. The older man looked at the woodpile and whistled. "Well now! You don't do things by half, do ya boy?" Ryoga smiled at the compliment. He'd developed a flair for languages over the years thanks to this blasted curse, and it was coming in handy now: this guy was speaking a language that was similar to English, but not quite the same. He'd picked up the differences fairly quickly on the road, and was doing OK now.

The fanged boy shrugged. "You asked me to work the woodpile, so I worked the woodpile. Why wouldn't I get as much as I could?"

The man smiled. "Not complaining lad. Gods, I wish I could find more like you! You've more than earned a nights stay and a meal, lad. Hell, probably dulled the axe!" He looked around, saw the axe was neither in the stump that served as a chopping block nor in Ryoga's hand, blinked, then saw that it was still hanging from a pair of nails on the side of the building, still at the odd angle it had been that morning. There was a long, thoughtful moment of silence as he looked from the axe, to Ryoga's hands, to the woodpile, and back. Ryoga shifted uncomfortably. The innkeeper shook himself, turned back to Ryoga. "Come on in, we'll get you fed."

He washed up in a wooden sink with harsh soap and lukewarm water. Wherever – or, as might be more appropriate, whenever – this place was, it was stuck in the middle ages. Still, the food smelled good and he was hungry enough not to care all that much – and he had to admit, his own cooking gear wasn't all that clean itself most of the time. After washing he picked a spot in the common room, and settled in to something the cook, a pleasant, plump woman with dimples, called a 'trencher' – a loaf of brown bread hollowed out and filled with stew. It was simple but very filling. He'd hesitated when the innkeeper offered him mead – he didn't handle alcohol that well – but given how medieval everything else was, the water might not actually be safe to drink. He'd just be careful.

He was enjoying a slight buzz and a full stomach about an hour later, and all was right with the world, when he heard the door open. Then-

"OOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!"

Ryoga froze. He only knew one person with a laugh like that. Kodachi Kuno. What in the name of the kamis was Kodachi doing here? He turned to the door and looked up. And up. And – with effort – further up. This wasn't Kodachi. She was too tall, too leggy, too buxom. Ryoga's eyes tried to drift back down, to look at the lady's tremendous bosom, barely held in place by a dark blue bikini top. Nestled between them was a skull-shaped pendant on a string of polished gemstones. Spiky metal shoulderpads held up a purple cloak, and a long sword perched on her shapely hips.

Ryoga knew he was staring, felt a trickle of blood start to run from his nose. He knew he should stop staring, knew that this way lay madness and female-caused pain and death. He couldn't bring himself to care.

The raven-haired stranger spoke. "Rejoice, innkeeper! For the great and lovely Naga the White Serpent has chosen your establishment for her nightly meal and lodgings!" Then she laughed again. That snapped Ryoga out of it, it was a terribly grating laugh.

Faintly, he heard the innkeeper swear under his breath. Then, aloud, "You do us great honor, noble sorceress."

With a gait that could only be described as a stalk, she moved to a table. "Your finest food and drink, innkeeper! And quickly!" Ryoga caught himself staring again. He shook himself – it was a bad habit to get into, especially in Nerima, where most of the beautiful women were more than capable of introducing him to a world of mayhem, pain and suffering. It was another thing to hate Ranma for – he'd managed to get engaged to far too many of them. It just wasn't fair.

The innkeeper brought over a pitcher of alcahol and some food. "And are you accompanied by your... companion?"

The sorceress shook her head, sniffed as if offended. "No," she said, with a trace of irritation, "Lina Inverse has ended our partnership." Brightly, "She probably tired of constantly failing to measure up to my beauty, intellect, and power."

The innkeeper looked relieved. He said smiled and bowed, scurried back to the kitchen.

Ryoga thought for a moment. This woman piqued his curiosity, but she carried herself like a noblewoman, and would almost certainly ignore any questions he might ask. Besides, horrid laugh or no, she was stunningly beautiful and he'd almost certainly make a fool of himself if he tried to talk to her. Scooping up his cleared plate, he walked back to the kitchen. "So who's the stranger?"

The innkeeper glanced at him. "You've never heard of Naga the White Serpent?"

"Nope. I'm not from around here."

"She's a notoriously dangerous and unperdictable sorceress. She follows – used to follow, I guess, another sorceress named Lina Inverse. From the stories, Lina never wanted her around, but they'd destroy bandit camps and fight monsters, though it was always a toss up who was going to do more damage- the monsters or the sorceresses. But they were always hell on bandits, so we lived with 'em. Though if Lina's broken up their little partnership, I'd say that means she's run off and Naga can't track her."

The two shared a smirk. "Was it this Lina you were worried about when she came in? I notice you've calmed down since finding out she isn't here."

"Lina's temper is shorter. Naga probably won't take offence to some innocent comment and blow the place up."

"...Probably."

"Yes."

"And you're letting her in _why_?"

The old man just smiled tiredly. "Would you like to tell her to leave after what I just told you?"

Ryoga started to respond, stopped himself, and took a long, measuring look at the sorceress. He wouldn't fear another martial artist, but a magic user was a different story. He'd been on the receiving end of magic before, and it hadn't been fun. And if she was half as powerful as the innkeeper was implying... His rarely-felt instincts of self-preservation kicked in, and he turned back to the innkeeper. "Nope. I'll just be my usual, inoffensive self."

"Smart lad. If you help with the dishes, too, we'll give you some coin when you leave tomorrow."

------------------------

"...And other than the incident with the thief, the contact went as planned. Saotome is apparently suffering from a polymorphing curse, which he would like removed as payment."

Fate paused in her report as her brother, Chrono said, "That sounds reasonable. I'll make sure HQ is aware before you get back. You should send us a scan if you can."

"Of course." The siblings shared a conspiratorial smile. Fate had been looking forward to the chance to work with her brother when she'd been assigned to this case, and had been rather annoyed when she'd learned that he'd been taken off of it. She hated politics and its myriad ways to prevent them from doing their jobs effectively. Her orders included reporting to the Admiralty, since they were using one of the Navy's frigates for transport. They hadn't said she had to report _directly_ to the Admiralty, and thus she was reporting via her brother. He'd done the groundwork for the investigation, and if nothing else, he deserved to be kept up to date on it. "Oh, one more thing, Chrono. Just after Nanoha defeated the thief, a group of local mages introduced themselves, to thank us."

Chrono tried and failed to hide a smirk. Fate's description of the attack and theft had been vague. He'd lived in Japan for several months. Between that, some of the stories he'd heard from Hayate and Nahoha, and Fate's body language, he'd gathered a rough idea of what the thief had stolen. "Not all that surprising, though I'm a bit surprised you found a group of mages on Earth."

"It does seem to attract a lot of oddities and power for such a backwater."

"Was there something special about this group?"

"Yes. One of them, identifying herself as Sailor Moon, said they were working to restore a 'Moon Kingdom' and a 'Silver Millennium.' I can't quite place the two terms, but I know I've heard them before."

"They ring a bell for me too." Chrono frowned. "I'll ask Yuuno to see what he can find in the Infinite Library."

"Thank you, brother. Give my love to mother."

"I will. Stay safe."


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I own none of the universes this wanders through. Not for profit; fan thingy; all that happy nonsense; wim bam pam lam gam jam biscuit barrel._

- Chapter 8 -

The Klingon Bird-of-Prey was an efficient, venerable design, and ships of the class had been in service for generations. The hardware had been updated over time, of course, but the basic space-frame and keel were so fundamentally sound that they'd yet to be phased out. The ship's designer had been something of a mad genius, and the Bird-of-Prey had been his masterpiece. Nothing else the Empire had designed came close to matching the versatility of the class – effective at everything from charting missions to commerce raiding and, in sufficient numbers, more than capable of fighting in a main line of battle.

They'd kept the basic keel and spaceframe, upgrading the components over the years but leaving the essentials the same. The ships tended towards long service lives with periodic upgrades, even moreso than Starfleet's own venerable _Excelsior_ class. The inherent ruggedness of the design allowed for that. Nothing else the Empire had designed could match it, not even a few versions where they took the basic spaceframe and made it larger – the only criticism that could be reasonable leveled against the design was that it didn't scale up well, but very few designs did.

Unfortunately for the Klingons in question here, two 2320s vintage Birds-of-Prey, commanded and crewed by Klingons sent to the backside of no-where to get them away from important posts we no match for an _Intrepid_-class starship, to say nothing of an _Intrepid_-class starship liberally upgraded over the last six years. The fight had been quick and decidedly one-sided.

The USS _Voyager_ hung in space at silent running conditions. Anger, fear, and confusion filled her halls as they made repairs and processed what had happened to them.

Kryten and Clemins were stuck in the brig. It was a combination of punishment and protection - it was general knowledge that they'd been the ones to let Ryoga out, thus losing the ship its way to just jump the hell out of here. They'd be stuck in the brig until this blew over some for their own good.

The fact that the interdimensional police had followed them and would have probably taken him away before they'd realized they were in the wrong version of the Alpha Quadrant was getting glossed over. So was the fact that it was Seven's conclusion that they were back in the first place. Tom doubted it was because people were self-honest enough to know that under the circumstances there was no real way to tell _without_ meeting the locals. Voyager's crew was exceptional but it wasn't _that_ exceptional. He figured the ship's collective consiousness just hadn't gotten that far. Or it was in general fear of what the borg woman could do when annoyed.

For now they were trying to figure out what to do from here. They'd learned enough from the jumps to partially control the process but they probably couldn't duplicate it on their own, according to B'Elanna. His wife was a genius, so he suspected she was right. He suspected that the others would be trying to figure out a way to do it anyway, even though they weren't all that likely to manage a jump to their proper home.

He was heading down to Engineering now to check on thier current efforts. Janeway'd called a staff meeting down there rather than the usual conference room, so she could keep working while they talked.

The place was a beehive of activity. It looked like most of all three shifts were in, half a dozen assorted science officers, and most of the senior staff. Tom had a sudden, sinking feeling that he was late. Chakotay glanced up from the console he was at. "Glad you could join us, Tom."

"Sorry I'm late."

The older man smiled. "You're not. We just got started early. Seven's come up with a theory on how to duplicate one of those jumps. We'd like to try it before more Klingons show up."

In the background, Worf gave Chakotay a bemused glance, then refilled his mug from a carafe they'd placed on a console. Tom walked over, feeling a desire for some fortifying caffeine before diving into the highly technical conversation flying around the assembled senior staff. He grabbed a spare mug and filled it. The liquid was darker than usual, and Tom hesitated a moment before drinking, figuring it to be one of Nelix's frequent, universally failed, 'better than coffee' substitutes.

It was a surprise. "Raktajino?" He glanced at one of the engineering staff. "You guys have spent the last six years steadfastly denouncing any coffee other than Earth coffee. What brought this on?"

The gold-shirted engineer smiled. "Worf. He's only fair-to-middling at maintenance, but he knows his drinks." He shrugged. "He's a nice guy, if a bit dour."

"Nelix will be devastated."

"Nelix never tried serving Raktajino."

Tom chuckled and joined the rest of the senior staff. They had a lot of work to do.

---------------

Seven-of-Nine tuned out the discussion that flowed around her to concentrate on the work of calculating just what they'd need to do to reproduce one of Ryoga's jumps. She was reasonably certain she had figured it out, but there were still two particles released in the jump she could not identify. Talk of 'curses' and 'magic' was vaguely offensive to her Borg sensibilities. She felt it should be offensive to Starfleet sensibilities as well- they were a culture of science, not a culture of supersticious primitives.

Someone had cited Clarke's Law. Seven had not been amused. NO science should be that sufficiently advanced, not to a Borg.

For now she was working with her computer models, trying to work out a way of generating their two mystery particles. She was having little success, but she would inevitably succeed. She simply had to continue experimentation. All things could be quantified and explained by Science, and Seven would use it to make this work. After a few hours of experimentation she'd isolated one of the particles and passed information pertaining on recreating it to the engineers. They were doing quite well on modifying the deflector dish to create their own, admittedly crude, jump engine. The human Lister had pulled a dimensional drive design out of Star Bug's computer, and the engineers were incorporating bits of it in their own drive.

Small matters like targeting a jump were the department of other members of the senior staff. She was responsible for theorizing their conveyance, B'Elanna for designing and building it. Tom and Chakotay would be guiding it. The plan was coming together, and by her calculations they would be out of this 'mirror universe' in no more than twelve hours.

--------------------------------------

Yuuno was concerned. He'd found, with a little help from the Orangutan, some information on this Moon Kingdom and its Silver Millennium. The information was fragmentary, certainly, but the fragments painted a disturbing picture. This 'Moon Kingdom' had arisen before, coming into existence out of a torrent of death and disaster, and a generations-long, ice age that had devastated the planet, the 'Silver Millennium.' The ice age was a required component to create the Crystal Tokyo that was central to the Moon Kingdom, and accounts varied as to weather or not they caused the ice age deliberately, or if they'd simply taken advantage of a natural disaster to further their political ends. They'd employed brainwashing en-masse on the population of their little pocket nation as well. This had been a reign of evil with few matches in the TSAB's historical database, and it looked like someone was trying to recreate it on Nanoha Takamachi's home world.

As one of her friends, Yuuno did not consider this to be a good thing.

He reported his findings to the Admiralty. Later that afternoon he was called up to go over them before a group of higher ups from the various branches of the armed forces. He had to explain it all again, stopping frequently to clarify points to various bureaucrats who knew roughly nothing about magic and how it worked. Despite a huge percentage of native Mid-Childans having the potential to become mages, most of them never bothered to learn anything beyond the most basic of convenience spells. Especially annoying, many of the willfully ignorant considered their ignorance to be a virtue.

Still. They listened to his report and most of the important ones seemed to get it. He'd find out what, if anything, they planed to do with it later.

As always when he reported on a bit of research he'd had help with, he was quite glad no-one had asked him many questions about information sources. The longer he could avoid trying to explain L-space to a bunch of paranoid military types the better.

-------------------------------------

It would be... imprecise to say that Vorik was bored. But he'd been in sickbay for quite some time now. The Doctor was still refusing to release him and Tuvok for duty. Considering the situation from the Doctor's position – two patients rendered unconscious and in shock via an unknown telepathic assailant – he understood why they were not being released from medical care quite so swiftly as normal, but it did not aid with the general... tiresome nature of extended convalescence.

And, if he was brutally self-honest with himself(second nature to a good Vulcan) he would have to admit that he was not quite sure he was entirely recovered... emotionally. Vulcans were renowned for their emotional control, but it was somewhat more difficult than it should be after his encounter with the black ship. Adequate meditation had stopped the black ship from troubling his dreams, but his sleep was still... less easy than it should be. He had noticed subtle signs that Tuvok was similarly... afflicted.

But for all he admited that he was still, as his human crewmates would put it, under the weather, Vorik was well and truly ready to be back to work, if only to have something to occupy his mind. Meditation palled after a while. His cohorts from Engineering had dropped by a few padds worth of interesting information and problems – ranging from a disturbingly plausible set of calculations for playing a sort of macro-scaled pool game with celestial bodies to some of the plans for the deflector modifications they were working on now. They were facinating, practical, and what he should have been concentrating on. But the macro-pool calculations were gaining more and more of his attention. Were he not a Vulcan, he would call the phenominon annoying.

Tuvok was also trying to expend time via study. Lieutenant Ayala had brought down some reports yesterday. He was going through them again. Tuvok had seemed slightly more content after reading them – apparently their Klingon guest Worf was pulling shifts at Tactical as well as pitching in around the engine room. Vorik knew only the vaguest things about the big Klingon, that he'd served aboard the Enterprise for several years with distinction, and was a superb tactical officer.

The Cardassian had come by a few times to chat with Tuvok. For all his talkative nature, he was welcome company.

Vorik started going through the deflector modifications again. The designs were facinating and he almost itched to be out there working on something. His cohorts had tried to get him out at least for the day, but the Doctor would have nothing of it, not for now. It was... frustrating, to say the least. Given the situation Voyager was in, he felt he was letting his crewmates down. It was not logical but it was very true.

--------------------------------

Ranma lay on a bed in the _Pauline_'s sickbay and tried not to flinch as the docs poked various gizmos at his face.

They were en-route to the place they intended to pick up the search for Ryoga. Ranma'd amused himself for a while just poking around the ship, and briefly in the frigate's gym. The thing was equipped with a neat little training dummy that the crew and marines used for combat training. It had been interesting, but not even close to a workout for him. He guessed it wasn't designed with martial artists in mind. After that he'd gone back to wandering the corridors, had gotten chased out of what he guessed was an engine room, and had run into Fate. She'd suggested that he follow her. Apparently they wanted to get a look at his curse so that they could try and remove it later.

As a young man who would enjoy not having to be a young girl part time, he liked this idea.

He reminded himself that this was for his benefit as they continued to wave strange objects about and paint the air above him in runes. He wished he knew more about magic. As it was, the whole thing was fairly unsettling for him.

Noticing his discomfort, Fate decided to distract him. "So. You said you got cursed on a training journey?" At his nod she continued. "Was there a reason you went to that specific place?"

Ranma shrugged, winced as the doc glared at him with an unspoken 'don't move, I'm busy here.' "We were kinda just going around finding places to train. I don't think Pops had a plan."

"So you went past a cursed spring and decided to train there?"

He chuckled. "We figured it was just a stupid myth. I mean, an honest-to-kamis curse? Who believes in stuff like that in this day and age." He sighed, consciously cleared the bitter undertone from his voice before continuing. "We sparred for a while on top of the bamboo, then I landed a good hit and dumped him in one of the springs. When he came out I was so surprised I couldn't dodge, and he landed me in another one."

"So he's cursed too? Another redhead?"

"Nah. Giant panda."

Fate did a double take at that, decided she was happier not knowing. "I imagine that was the low point of your training."

Ranma snorted. "Oh, I wish. Solid second, though."

"Oh?"

"Worst was the thing with the c-cats."

"Cats?"

"Pops had some... weird ideas for training. I don't really wanna talk about it."

"Your life has never been borring, has it?

"Nope. Other lows included the Chinese Amazon version of a shotgun wedding, though at the time it just looked like they were trying to kill us. We made a run for it and got back to Japan, then Pops sprung another one on me. We went to the dojo his old friend Soun Tendo owns. He told me we were just going there to visit a friend. When I got there he tells me he made a deal with the guy years ago that I'd marry one of his daughters. Unite the Tendo and Saotome schools of martial arts and all that."

"And how did your Chinese wife react to that?"

"We didn't know about her yet. But Tendo wasn't the only one he made a deal like that with. Got a total of three fiances, and a buncha others after me. In both forms."

"When our file said your romantic life was complicated, I see it was understating things." For a moment the only sound was the the faint crackle of the scanning spells. "Three fiances. Have you..." she paused a moment, trying to decide how to state this. "Picked one?"

"Not really. I mean, I like 'em all, but..." he sighed, collected his thoughts. "I'm only seventeen. I ain't ready to make a choice like that yet."

"Are all of the ladies involved so... abrasive?"

Ranma blinked. "You talking about Akane?" Fate nodded. "She's usually not that bad. We caught the lightshow of you two taking down Happi. That, and the last time we ran into someone who could fly, the bastard came damned close to killing her." His voice trailed off.

"What happened?"

Ranma was silent for a long moment, memories of the entire event playing through his head. What had happend, what had almost happened, what he'd had to do. "I killed him first," he said in a quiet voice. Then, in a voice that was almost a plea, "I had no choice."

"I understand," said Fate, quietly. "I'm sorry to have brought back unhappy memories. How long ago?"

"About a month and a half. She's been a bit... tense since then. Getting mad is how she reacts to something that scares her bad."

"That doesn't seem healthy."

He shrugged again, winced at the doc's put-upon sigh. "Everyone else I know is at least a little nuts. She's definitely not the craziest."

"So everyone's crazy?" He nodded. "Interesting way of looking at the world."

"Yeah. I either accept it or go totally nuts myself. It works, mostly."

"You live a strange life."

"This from the mage?"

She smiled. "Fair enough." She glanced towards the doc, as if he'd just spoken. "Ah. At this point we'll need to trigger the curse a few times."

Ranma groaned. He knew this had been going too easily.

--------------------------------------

To her annoyance, it had taken Seven a few hours longer to determine how to reproduce all the elements of the jumps than she had predicted, and the modifications to the deflector dish had suffered minor setbacks as well as the plans were developed and assembled. It was finally time to test it.

The bridge was packed to capacity. In addition to the usual crew were Seven, B'Elanna, Carey, a few other engineers, Worf at tactical in place of Tuvok, Nelix, Lister, and a few crewmen who 'just happened' to have reports to deliver as they prepared to get the hell out of this dimension. An air of anticipation underscored the quiet as everything began to come together for their dimensional drive test. The energy requirements of the device were not inconsiderable, so they'd taken a bit of time to move deeper into the void between star systems before testing.

Reports came in, departments secured and the ship at Yellow Alert. All was in readiness. "Mister Paris, engage the dimensional drive."

They'd strapped the jump drive's control box to the helm. Tom punched the green button marked 'start.'

On the screen the watched as a beam of energy erupted from the deflector dish, coalescing into a pastel smear across the starfield two kilometers from the ship's bow. It grew, gained some definition, as they poured energy and strange radiations into the beam. A sphere began to take form, began to emit the radiations on its own. It was a wash of colour as power built within it. Hope filled the bridge as the lights began to dim.

"It's radiating on its own, Captain," began Harry from the opps board. "The reaction should be self-sustaining."

"Cut the beam. Mister Paris, take us in."

"Aye, Captain." Tom brought them up to half impulse, pushed straight into the sphere of light.

They went straight through without so much as a shudder. The ball of energy fell astern, then collapsed in on itself.

Silence filled the bridge. Chakotay moved to Harry's station; they went over the sensor logs together. At their continued silence a sence of dread began to fill the gathered people. Janeway broke the silence. "Anything, Commander?"

"No, Captain," said Chakotay in a voice of quiet dispair. "It looks like the reaction wasn't self-sustaining. It broke down the instant we cut power." He took a breath. "There's no sign of a jump, or of the distortions they left behind. It failed."

The despair flooded in as the senior staff of the lost crew felt a hope fade. B'Elanna swore under her breath, Seven's left hand clenched in a fist as she muttered something about Clarke's law, then the bridge faded into silence.

The silence was broken as Worf cleared his throat. "Captain Janeway. I know of another possibility."

All eyes were on the big Klingon. At Janeway's nod, he continued. "The crew of Deep Space Nine has had some experience with this mirror universe. The Bajoran Wormhole can serve as a portal between this and our own universe."

Chakotay was the first to find his voice. "How?"

"Before I was assigned to the station, Colonel Kira and Doctor Bashir took a Runabout on a mission into the Gamma Quadrant. On the way back they experienced engine trouble, and went through the wormhole with a partially collapsed warp field. It brought them to this universe, and they were able to return by reversing the process. If we can get to Bajor, we can do the same to get home."

For a long moment you could hear the proverbial pin drop on the bridge of the Voyager as they considered these words. Janeway found her voice first. "Well then. B'Elanna, begin returning the deflector dish to normal function. Mister Paris. Plot us a course for Bajor."

---------------------------------

"Transmission from HQ, Admiral."

"Patch it through."

Chrono turned as a viewpanel flickered into life beside his chair and resolved into an image of Admiral Villar. "Good day sir."

"Admiral Harlaown. Have you managed to reach your task force yet?"

"Not quite sir. We're only about two jumps short of our rendezvous."

Villar smiled lopsidedly. "Well, I'm afraid we're going to have to divert you again."

Chrono stopped himself from frowning or groaning. "Oh?"

"Yuuno's found your 'moon kindom.'"

"I see."

"We're putting Agent Lannster on the investigation. I believe she was one of your sister's proteges?"

"Yes. Fate thinks highly of her."

"She'll be assisted on the investigation on the ground by Enforcer Nakajima."

"They work well together by all reports. Am I correct in assuming that you want to tap _Claudia_ as the mission's transport?"

"Yes, for three reasons. First, this mission is somewhat confidential, and since you are already aware of the situation bringing you in means we don't need to bring in someone else. Two, if they run into something they can't handle, they can call upon you as their ace in the hole. And third," he hesitated for a moment, "We need you to make contact with Gil Graham."

Chrono froze. "I beg your pardon, Sir?"

Villar looked genuinely apologetic. "Gil Graham is an Earth native, and he has been living there for the ten years of his exile. He may have information on this group. And we badly need information: Archivist Scrya was unable to find any real details about the group and its capabilities, membership, or overall goals in the Infinite Library."

"So you want someone to talk to Graham. Why me?"

"Because you are his protege, and one of the very few people still in the TSAB whom he respects. I've had some contact with him over the years. He enquires after you often, and he's told me he respects that you had the drive and sense of justice to do what you did despite what it cost you personally."

Chrono closed his eyes, exhaled slowly. That his old mentor still cared despite what almost had to seem from the ex-admiral's perspective to be a betrayal of him a decade ago was... surprising. That he was one of the few still in the service that Graham respected was also surprising. He hadn't thought the wave of courts-martial had cut that deeply into the senior ranks – but perhaps it had. He'd not had much of a head for politics back then.

"So my orders are to provide transport and general support to the investigation team and make contact with Gil Graham to try and gather information to supplement them?"

"Yes, Admrial." A pause. "For what it's worth, I opposed that element of the plan. Your father was a friend."

"Thank you, Admiral. But they're right. We need information, and if he'll listen to me, I may as well get it."

-------------------------------------

_Voyager_ was on course for Bajor, taking a somewhat indirect route that tried to avoid the more populous regions of the Klingon Empire. The later stages of the route, when they left the Klingon sphere of influence and entered the Cardassian one, were still being planned with the assistance of Garak. With the senior staff he abandoned his kindly tailor persona, and they met the operative beneath the facade. It was an... unsettling experience. Chakotay in particular caught himself slipping back into old, Maquis modes of thought; reacting defensively to being intimidated by a Cardassian.

But for all that, Elim Garak was a veritable font of information about Cardassia. And he'd followed what little information Deep Space Nine had retrieved of the mirror universe better than Worf had. Between that and knowledge of what the Cardassian Union had done in their home dimension, he'd sketeched out a frighteningly plausible outline of where they'd likely built themselves up and fortified positions. He'd done the same for the Klingons, albeit in lesser detail.

Janeway was having severe doubts about her earlier decision to not toss him in the brig. For now she was trying to weigh the potential consequences of letting him keep his current run of the ship against the potential morale backlash of locking him up. The crew were fond of his public persona, and their morale was currently... fragile. Hope after hope had been dashed, and for all their current plan should work, it was general knowledge that Bajor lay deep within Cardassia's sphere of influence in this universe, leaving that hope on shaky ground.

She had a strong impression that this was simply the way the man was, not that he was going out of his way to try to intimidate and/or infuriate them. Worf was too professional to say outright, but he'd impled that it was something along those lines.

Worf. She'd been quite impressed with the big Klingon. No sign of the nigh-volcanic temper that was B'Elanna's bane, a great deal of competence at the Tactical board – he'd absorbed the changes they'd made to _Voyager's_ armaments quickly and had been excited at a lot of it. The way he'd simply... pitched in down in engineering before Janeway had really thought of what she was going to do with him. For all she'd be glad when Tuvok was back on duty, it had been a stroke of good fortune for them to get someone able to stand in for him. They got such luck far too infrequently on _Voyager_.

Still. For the moment, they were flying through Klingon space at Warp 7, the fastest they could go and still even pretend to be able to reduce their vulnerability to sensors. Even with the tightest emission control they could muster, it wasn't a patch on a full-blown cloaking device and they knew it. They were holding some speed in reserve in the hopes of surprising their pursuers- Deep Space Nine's information suggested that the locals were somewhat less advanced than their own universe's equivalents. It was one of the only bright spots in their current situation.

It had been a quiet shift. Ensign Kim was keeping a close watch on the sensors, watching for any signs of cloaked ships or listening posts. For now, nothing had happened. Janeway was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and hoping that it wouldn't. They would have to run the guns of Terok Nor eventually, any other possible battle they hoped to avoid.

From his station, Kim inhaled sharply and she knew the situation was about to get worse. "Report, Mister Kim."

"Incoming tachyon distortion. I'm trying to get a better look at it now."

"Shields up, red alert."

Evidently deciding that the stealth approach had been played out, three Birds of Prey decloaked to port, firing into _Voyager's_ shields. At her order, Worf returned fire, scoring a hit on the lead Bird of Prey, as Tom altered course and accelerated. When they hit Warp 8.4 the structural integrity field alarms started to wail; a shrill tone that cut through the red alert klaxons. The sound faded when they backed down to Warp 8.2. The Klingons kept pace easily, the three pursuers spreading out and putting fire into the after third of _Voyager's_ shields.

Silence filled the was trying to keep pressure on their pursuers with the aft phasers, but it was increasingly clear that that would not be enough to get them to back off. As the stern chase stretched to fifteen minutes, despite Tom's best efforts at evasive maneuvering, they were effectively boxed in by the pursuit. Janeway came to a decision. "We can't outrun them. Drop us out of warp and hail them."

They dropped out of warp. Kim opened a channel. "This is Captain Janeway of the Federation Starship _Voyager_ to pursuing Klingon vessels. We are not escaped slaves. We are not from this universe; we're just passing through. Please, let us go. We have no interest in opposing your government or cause in any way."

Janeway had half-expected them to ignore her communication. She was somewhat surprised when they did not. She was even more surprised when she saw the commander who replied – a female Klingon appearing perhaps ten years older than B'Elanna. In a surprisingly pleasant tone, she said, "This is HoD K'Ehleyr of the IKS _J'MaG_. You are from the mirror universe. For all your Starfleet claims to have no interest in working against us, you've aided the Resistance far too many times for us to believe you. I'm afraid you'll have to die."

--------------

At his station, Worf stiffened. He'd not thought much of their chances to talk their way out of this even if they hadn't returned fire. He'd tuned out Janeway's hail as he strategized, coming up with the best plan he could to deal with the enemy's superior numbers. If they were correctly judging the vintage of this trio of ships, Voyager suffered a moderate disadvantage in firepower against the three of them- then he heard the Klingon commander speak.

She named herself K'Ehleyr, and he did not doubt it. The voice was the same, as was the face, and he recognized her tone of old. She was who she said she was, and his heart froze in his chest as he realized what was about to happen.

He barely heard Janeway's response. "If you insist on a fight, we'll give you one." At her nod, Kim cut the connection, the screen flicking back to a view of the lead Bird-of-Prey. "Mister Paris, evasive pattern delta. Mister Worf, target and fire."

His hands moved by instinct, the skill of a dozen years in Starfleet reacting automatically. His thoughts whirled, unconnected to his task, as he targeted one of the Birds of Prey and sent a volley of phaser-fire towards it. Only one of the three beams connected, by contrast the Bird of Prey's return photon torpedo struck the dorsal shields squarely, rocking the _Voyager_.

The desire to respond in kind was deeply ingrained in his tactical officer's psyche. He targeted the ship- _not_ the leader of the little squadron, thankfully – and let fly with a torpedo of his own. It connected, knocking out the ship's shields. The Bird-of-Prey spun away, trying to flee as a phaser blast caught the starboard wing, causing the disruptor and roughly a third of the wing to pinwheel away, severed. The maimed ship went into a wild evasion pattern and warped away, recloaking.

He turned his attention to the next ship of the group, again not targeting K'Ethleyr's ship. Perhaps, just perhaps... For roughly a minute, none of the three combatants managed to land any hits on each-other, concentrating on evasion and defense, then a string of disruptor bolts fired by K'Ethleyr's ship stitched their way across _Voyager's_ shields. Behind him, one of the tactical consoles exploded. Shards of plastic punched through his uniform and into his back, but he didn't feel it. Vaguely, Worf heard Janeway call for a damage report, heard Kim respond.

Worf lashed out with the ships phasers once again. Crimson splashed against the green ship's shields, penetrated to strike home against the main hull. The Bird-of -Prey lurched, engines flickering and dying.

At his station, Kim announced, "They're losing antimatter containment. It's going to blow!"

Janeway keyed the comm. "All hands, brace for impact."

The Bird-of-Prey lost containment, vanished in a ball of antimatter fire that grew and washed over _Voyager_ and _J'MaG. Voyager_ weathered the firestorm with sheilds intact, the Bird-of-Prey did not. She lost power for a moment and _Voyager_ took up a firing position. Worf's heart thundered in his chest as he dreaded what would happen next.

"Let's see if they'll talk now. Ensign Kim, put me through to them."

"Aye, Captain."

The screen flicked from the lamed ship to her commander. K'Ehleyr's expression was defiant, a cut on her forehead trickling blood. Janeway said, "Your comrades are destroyed and fled. Your ship is helpless under our guns. Surrender and we will break off hostilities and let you withdraw to make repairs."

K'Ehleyr sneered, spat something profane. "We are not so helpless as you would like to think, spineless Terran."

From his station, Kim said, "Captain, the _J'MaG_ is powering back up, bringing her impulse engines and disruptors online."

"Don't do this," Janeway pleaded. "Don't throw your crew's lives away."

Worf's eyes screwed shut as K'Ehleyr responded. "We are Klingons! We do not surrender." From behind her, another officer stepped into the comm pickup. "It is a good day to die, Terran. And the day is not yet over. You may well precede us." They broke off communications.

"They've regained disruptor lock."

"Have they raised their shields?"

"No, Captain."

The _J'MaG_'s disruptors lashed out at _Voyager_, rocking the ship and her weakened shields. "Mister Worf. Target with a photon torpedo and fire."

His heart felt leaden as he keyed in the shot, barely aware of what he was doing. The torpedo flashed out, streaking towards the Bird-of-Prey. At this range, against a foe who could barely move, to miss would be impossible. He had done his duty for the ship that was his temporary home, and as he watched the torpedo slam home and detonate against the naked metal of the _J'MaG_'s hull, he hated himself. The blast tore the ship in two, then her warp core detonated, and another small sun gnawed at _Voyager_'s shields, failed to penetrate.

Worf felt something break within him. No man should have to watch his beloved die twice.

Janeway watched the antimatter ruin of _J'MaG_ fade from the viewscreen. She hated moments like this. In a rational universe the Klingons were their allies. Whatever else this K'Ehleyr was, she had been a dedicated officer, loyal to the nation she served. Janeway devoutly wished she could have met the Klingon woman under other circumstances. After a long moment of silence she found her voice. "Excellent shooting, Mister Worf. Secure from general quarters."

The red alert lights faded. She closed her eyes, wishing that they'd been able to find another way. Beside her, Chakotay turned to the rear of the bridge, and his breath caught. "Captain..."

She turned, followed his gaze. Commander Worf was hunched over the Tactical station, head low, holding himself up with both hands. His face was twisted into a rictus of pain, a growl building in his throat. She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong when the Klingon abruptly reared back, eyes screwed shut, face tilted to the celing, and _roared_.

For a long, seemingly endless moment, he stood there, his wordless scream echoing through Voyager's small bridge. _Klingon death ritual_, whispered a voice in the back of her mind, _warning the dead that a warrior was coming_. But- why? He had not reacted like this, not remotely like this, at the end of their previous battle. And the Ritual did not explain the raw, nigh-elemental pain written across his face and form.

Finally the roar faded, and Worf seemed to collapse inward for a moment. He collected himself, then, in a hoarse voice, "Please forgive my outburst. Requesting permition to leave the bridge."

Janeway could only nod mutely. Tears glittering on his cheeks, the Klingon turned to the turbolift, moving like a man half dead.


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters/worlds/series/etc this runs through. I'm just having fun with this._

- Chapter 9 -

Ryoga had been up with the dawn. He helped the innkeeper and his wife get a fire going and generally prepare for the day then took his leave. He'd wanted to get far, far away from a powerful sorceress with a hangover, as quickly as possible.

So the fact that he was currently walking a rust-coloured desert was hardly a surprise. He made good time when he put his mind to it. It was probably the strangest desert Ryoga had ever seen. He was fairly sure that coral wasn't common in a desert, for one. And for another, you usually didn't see giant trees in one. That was probably a hallucination, though, it was damned hot out. He hefted his canteen. Half empty. "I hope I find some water soon," he muttered. He'd been ambushed by a bunch of crazy guys in loincloths earlier, and while they hadn't exactly been a challenge, the fight had burned up a bit of energy. He couldn't understand whatever it was they were saying; so asking if they'd heard of a city called Tokyo had been kinda pointless. He'd asked anyway, and listened to the pair who were still standing after he'd ended the fight with a shi shi hokodan babble in whatever their weird tongue was for a while. Sadly, they hadn't had waterskins of their own, or he'd have taken one.

So he was walking the lonely, rust coloured sands, aiming vaguely for some mountains in the distance. Mountains usually meant water. And if he was lucky he'd run into a cactus or some other plant that had water inside.

Sighing, he moved into a circle of standing stones, leaned against the shaded side of one. "Damn you, Ranma," he muttered, "Where am I now?"

The rock he was leaning against said, "The Plain of Fear," in a deep, rumbling voice.

Ryoga considered the situation for a moment, felt his forehead. He didn't think he was running a fever. "And do ya know where the nearest waterhole is?"

The standing stone tilted slightly to the south and said, "That way."

Ryoga shrugged, said, "Thanks." Adjusting the straps on his backpack he started off again, intent on following the helpful stone's directions.

Being Ryoga, he did this by walking west. Given that the Menhir was lying, this is probably for the best.

----------

We probably wouldn't have noticed him if Otto and Hagop had been doing the sensible thing and staying under cover in this heat, sentry duty be damned. A lone youth, walking through the desert with a kind of parasol up, like it was nothing but a normal day. Hagop swore up and down that the kid had popped out of thin air about a hundred yards outside Darling's null and started walking. He'd skirted around some of the Plain of Fear's ubiquitous coral and had wandered more or less away from our caves. The two followed the stranger at a distance, trying to figure out if he was some kind of spy or sorcerer or something. A while later he got jumped, so they told me, by about twenty of the wild men who worship Old Father Tree. Not uncommon, for them to jump travelers. What happened next was unusual: they swear he took the whole bunch of them on without breaking a sweat, finishing them off with some kind of sorcery. Even stranger, after that he just kept walking, and almost all the wild men were still alive and kicking when Otto and Hagop closed in to look. Hagop kept following the stranger while Otto ran back to grab me, Goblin and One-Eye.

The runty little wizards were happy for an excuse to get outside the null, even if it did mean work and a possible fight. I whistled up some backup for us, Match and Pawnbroker, and off we went. The wild men weren't much, individually, but a sorcerer who could take a bunch of them down after they ambushed him was not someone I wanted to go after without help.

There was a little of the usual sniping between Goblin and One-Eye, but they managed to keep a lid on the theatrics - probably because we'd all seen Taken patrolling the skies beyond the null, keeping an eye on us. It was starting to look like Lady was running out of patience. Darling was planning something big, flashy, and probably dangerous as all hell to try and inspire more people to the Rebel cause.

That was us, the hope of the free world. A bunch of tired men and eager, stupid boys hanging out in a hole in the ground on the Plain of Fear.

The wizards got to arguing with each other when we came to the fight. The wild men had taken their fallen and their gear, but a trained eye could tell there'd been a decent little brawl here. Otto talked us through it. Whoever the stranger was, he was a decent fighter, and there were a few bits of ground that looked like sorcery had been at play.

"Wonder why the Taken haven't come down to check this out," muttered Goblin durring a lull in argument with One-Eye.

Otto and Pawnbroker scanned the skies. "Ain't seein them up there, anymore. Could be they just missed it."

"What's the story, boys," I said to the two tame wizards.

"Not much to tell, Croaker," began One-Eye. "He's not using any kind of magic I recognize, but it's definitely there. He set off some kinda blast to scatter them. There's a lot of dark, bitter energy hanging around from it." He looked off to the west. "I hope Hagop has the sense to not try and jump this joker."

"How powerful?"

The wizened old man exchanged glances with Goblin, shrugged. "More powerful than me or Goblin, but he's no heavyweight."

"That don't inspire much confidence," muttered Match.

"Teach your grandmother to suck eggs, kid."

I took charge of the situation. "Otto. Let's go get Hagop, make sure he's ok."

Otto wasn't much of a tracker, but Hagop knew that when he lit out after the stranger. He'd left trail sign that anyone who knew him would be able to read. He spotted us first. "This gink's a trusting sort. He wandered into a pack of menhirs and asked 'em a couple questions before movin on."

"He can't be from around here then, the locals know better than to trust the damned talking rocks."

He didn't look like much to me. Still in his teens, nothing but some kind of parasol and a backpack for gear. Just heading across the Plain of Fear for a morning stroll. Be funny if it wasn't so crazy.

We followed for a while. His course was erratic but he was moving at a decent clip. We'd just about decided that he really was only passing through when a change storm started raining down chaos. We beat feet for cover, made it under some rocks before a fragment of Old Father Tree's dreams landed on us. The gink we were following wasn't so lucky.

He'd started running when the change storm began, aiming for a different set of rocks than us. He didn't make it. A shard of change hit the red earth next to him, there was a splash of water and a sparkle of rainbow light, and then the kid was gone. Where he'd been was a little black pig in a heap of clothes and gear. The little sucker hid under the parasol until the change storm abated.

When the dust settled we poked our heads out to take a look at the situation. The pig was glancing around with what I'd swear was an expression of total panic. It grabbed the shaft of the parasol in its mouth and looked for all the world like it was going to hit us with it.

"Never seen a change storm do this," said Hagop, looking over the pig and his heap of stuff.

"Yeah. Usually it does something _really_ twisted to a person." I tried to reach for the guy's fallen backpack, and a swing of that parasol damn near broke my hand. I backed away, swearing.

We circled the pig. "Look you little bastard, we're not gonna hurt ya. Drop that damned thing and we'll get the spook-chasers to see if they can change you back." I gestured towards Goblin and One-Eye. They were working some kind of spell, threw it.

Most of it was flash and distraction – a small bundle of bats whipping down from the brim of One-Eye's hat and around the pig- an illusion. The meat of it was a length of string Goblin threw, glowing a cold blue. The string hit the pig, swirled to wrap around it. The little porker started screaming like the damned and struggling.

"That should hold him till he tires out."

"Think you can fix him?"

The two wizards exchanged glances. Goblin said, "Not sure yet. We'd need to study him some, and shapechanging ain't exactly low end stuff."

One-Eye nodded. "This isn't the usual thing a change storm does. Probably have to pry Silent away from Darling to help figure it out."

"That ain't likely t' happen," said Hagop as he picked through the dropped belongings. "Looks like it trashed his canteen, but everything else is fine."

"That's stran-"

We were interrupted by a fat crackle and a pop, then the pig broke out of the bindings Goblin had put on him, grabbed his parasol, and charged past, somehow grabbing his backpack as he went. Speachless, we watched him run for a minute. Gobin's mouth was working up and down like a fish out of water.

"Stupid bastard's gonna wind up in someone's stew pot."

"Let's get under cover. The heat must be getting to us."

--------------------------------------

Setsuna Meiou frowned as she tried to adjust the Gates of Time. She'd returned from a shopping trip to find the gates showing nothing but static. In the past it had only done this at times of great temporal flux. The inability to keep tabs on things was worrying, but assuming it didn't last too long it shouldn't be a problem. There was still over a decade left before she'd need to have Usagi ready. Plenty of time to ensure that Crystal Tokyo would come to be.

Still, she hoped whatever was interfering with the Gates of Time would clear soon. They were her best source of information and even though time was not yet critical, being in the last handful of years of a ten-thousand year plan made her a little antsy. There was still a great deal to be done, a great number of things that could go wrong. She would simply have to be more careful than usual until the Gates cleared.

---------------------------------------

Subaru had paid at least some attention to their briefing, enough to properly double check the various bits of cover ID and other material. Somewhat annoyingly, she was having more trouble than Teana keeping the denominations straight on the Japanese coins they'd been given for petty cash. Her ancestors came from this nation. Why couldn't she have been bothered to pick up the language?

They had limited information, and so were starting their investigation in Nerima ward, where Nanoha and Fate had encountered these 'Senshi'. They'd picked a hotel to stay in, and for the moment they were just looking around and getting a feel for the city. Tokyo was interesting, in many ways similar to Clanagan back on Mid-Childa, but... not so much grittier, for Teana found it hard to believe she could be in danger here, but earthier. There was a lot of old mixed in with the modern in Tokyo. The duality was intriguing.

The streets were heavily crowded, but no-one pressed in on them. The two agents walked around for most of an hour, just trying to get a feel for the area. There'd been some worry that Subaru's purple hair would mark them as outsiders. That fear had been put to rest at the sight of a purple-haired girl delivering something on a bike. The people were giving her a wide berth, but Teana figured that had more to do with the way she was going over, under, or through, any obstacle in her path rather than around. She seemed so... earnest and eager with what she did. Teana wondered what she was delivering.

It was an interesting neighborhood. The people ranged wildly in look and dress. Youths in school uniforms, men in business suits, women in dresses both casual and formal. She'd seen a woman in an amazingly beautiful green kimono and resolved then and there that she would _make_ the time to get one for herself before they left. Subaru swore that she'd spotted a man who looked like nothing so much as an old-style Samurai complete with sword.

Between them, they spoke perhaps twenty words of Japanese. God bless translation spells, though Teana's was a little fuzzier than she was used to. The Japanese language was very complicated, which didn't help the spell keep up with things, nor did the level of crowding on the streets. If nothing else, this little trip would help her improve her skill with it. The translation spell was being pushed harder because many of the people they talked to saw the props of their cover story - as tourists from Canada - and decided to test their command of English on them. The rapid-fire language switching was giving the translation spell fits. Amusingly, many people had complemented Teana on her skill with the Japanese language.

They toured Nerima Ward on foot for a few hours before finding a newsstand. As far as finding information about their targets was concerned, the place was a potential gold mine. Half a dozen newspapers listed articles about the Senshi, and there was an entire magazine devoted to them. They bought the latest issue of _Senshi Beat_ and several newspapers. Research material in hand, it was time to get something to eat. They backtracked to a restaurant they'd passed shortly before finding the newsstand. They weren't sure what an okonomiyaki was, but the smell wafting out of the place had promise.

-----------

Ukyo was glad to see the two strangers show up, it had been a slow day. She was cooking up a second round of the daily special for them – they'd practically inhaled the first okonomiyakis she'd cooked up for them – and wondered. One of them was clearly gaijin, with her orange hair and pale complexion. The other looked Japanese. They sat at a corner table, chatting in some foreign tongue and flipping through a pile of tabloids and a magazine. She wondered why people interested in the Senshi were hanging around Nerima. Everyone knew that crowd never came to this end of town.

Probably because any time a monster did pop up here, said monster quickly ran afoul of a martial artist. It kept life interesting.

Still. Clearly, they were from out of town. The purple haired one got up from the table and wandered up to the grill. She looked at the cooking okonomiyaki for a moment, glanced around the grill. "Interesting way to cook. These are really good."

"Thanks. I'll have these done soon for you and your friend." A moment's pause, then, "Where are you from, anyway?"

The girl hesitated a moment, then, "Vancouver."

"What brings you to Japan?"

She shrugged. "Won a trip. My family used to live here, but I'd never had a chance to come here before. Teana came along 'cause she's my best friend."

"I've wanted to travel some. Can't really do that with my own restaurant, though."

"Well, it's a nice restaurant. I like your waiter, he's kinda funny."

Ukyo blinked. "You can tell that Konatsu's a guy?" The crossdressing ninja was in rare form today, so well dolled up that a few regulars who knew better had been checking him out. The sudden looks of realization as they remembered were always amusing.

She giggled. "I've got a good trap detector. He does better than most, though." She looked at the grill again. "Are those about done?"

Ukyo gave the food a quick, critical glance from her chef's eye. "They are."

"Great!" Ukyo deftly placed the okonomiyaki onto a plate, passed it to her. She returned to her table, exchanging words with her friend.

Ukyo shook her head. Strange people, these Canadians. Best friend... something in the way she'd said that almost made it sound like an euphemism. She looked at the two of them together for a moment and thought about Ranma. Unless they could find him a cure, she'd have to get comfortable with the idea of being with a woman. That she would be the one to win Ranma's heart, Ukyo took as an article of faith. A successful relationship required trust. As far as Ukyo could tell, Ranma didn't trust Shampoo, and Akane didn't trust him. Ukyo and Ranma, however, knew that they could trust each other. All she had to do was get him to start thinking of her as a woman, and not 'one of the guys.' She'd figure out a way to manage that somehow, though her efforts thus far had been less than successful in that regard.

And either find him a cure or get a lot more comfortable with... things. She told herself that the fact that it was Ranma would make it easier. She hoped she was right.

------------

Subaru stretched as she and Teana walked back to their hotel. The research had been more or less a bust. There'd been remarkably little information in the magazine, almost all of which was speculation about the Senshi's likes, dislikes, and romantic lives. The newspapers were basically just tabloid trash. In retrospect, Subaru figured that she shouldn't find the fact that the trashy tabloid would emerge on multiple worlds unsurprising. TSAB expense account notwithstanding, she hated to give money to that kinda thing.

Still, the magazine had been at least a little entertaining, and they'd learned at least where in Tokyo they should be looking for the Senshi – Juuban. Figuring out where Juuban was in relation to Nerima was something they'd yet to do. Their cover as tourists would cover them somewhat in inquiries like that, but they didn't want to appear too ignorant. Using some of the gear they'd brought along it should be trivial to look up a map of the city and figure that part out.

She looked around as they walked. She'd heard stories from Nanoha and Hayate about Japan. So many things were bringing back memories of those stories, the mental pictures they'd painted joining the real things she was seeing. This was so cool, though she wished she wasn't here on business. She probably wouldn't have time to really look around. Still, she'd enjoy this investigation and the opportunity it gave her.

Out of the corner of her eyes she spotted something from those tales she'd thought was a lie. She walked up to the vending machine.

"What are you doing, Subaru?" asked Teana, in her usual, cutely annoyed tone.

"Check it out, Tia! You really can buy anything from vending machines here."

Teana looked closer at the machine, blushed crimson. "Okay, we owe Nanoha an apology for thinking that was a lie. C'mon, let's keep going."

Subaru ignored her, surveyed the wares available. Finding one she liked, she checked the price and pulled out some coins.

"What are you-? You can't be serious."

"Aw, come on, Tia. It'll be a fun souvenir. And it's not like we have anything better to do tonight."

Teana's blush deepened. "You... oh fine." She hesitated, then pointed at a specific item in the machine. "But get that one, instead."

Subaru smiled. Teana was so cute when she got self-conscious. Suddenly, screams rang out from the street. The crowds, thinned out since before they'd stopped for dinner, were running past. Teana looked out of the vending-machine alcove and down the street, eyes widening. Subaru rushed to her side and looked with her.

About a block down the street a monster, a purple-and-black skinned creature that looked like a mockery of the female form, stalked from an alley. Too-long arms reached for fleeing civilians as it cackled in mad laughter. One hand closed around the arm of a salaryman, whose shout of fear rapidly changed into a shriek of agony as he seemed to wilt.

The two exchanged nods, ducked back into the alcove. Teana held the cardlike storage form of Cross Mirage in her hand as Subaru grabbed her pendant.

"Cross Mirage-"

"Mach Caliber-"

"SET UP!"

There was a flash of light as their barrier jackets replaced their civilian clothing and they raced out into the street. The monster seemed to have noticed them and turned to face them, dropping the salaryman, who crumpled to the pavement with a sob.

Subaru sent a mental command to Revolver Knuckle, and the weapon spun up to power as she charged. Behind her, Teana leveled Cross Mirage and took aim, power gathering at the barrel's tip. "Shoot Barret!" She snapped off three shots that slammed into the monster's chest, rocking it backwards and off balance.

Subaru was upon it before it could recover. She'd burned a cartridge into charging – there were too many civilians around for her to take her time – and let fly. "Revolver Cannon!" The magically-augmented punch hit the monster in the center of its misshapen torso. It roared in pain as the blow lifted it from the ground. Subaru's momentum carried her past, whipping around in a tight turn on her rollerblades and deftly dodging around the fallen man.

She and Teana watched as the monster disolved into dust. For a moment all was silence as they looked on with incredulity.

_I don't know about you_, thought Teana to Subaru. _But that seemed too easy_.

_Ya. That was kinda pathetic._

The gathered crowd was looking at them curiously, and a low murmur of conversation rang out as the onlookers checked out the two magical girls. By quick count, Subaru saw half a dozen camera phones pointed their way. _Let's get out of here and change back. Quick._

_Yeah._

Subaru grabbed Teana and they raced off, a combination of speed and Teana's illusions letting them leave the crowd behind within two blocks.

_---------------_

Ami had raced across the room the moment she heard the Youma detector go off. Killing the alarm, she hit the 'localize' button. She snorted when she saw where it pointed – Nerima ward. Another blasted false alarm, and not a terribly powerful one. She told the device to rescan and when it finished the scan thirty seconds later, sure enough, the scope was clear. _One of these days I need to figure out why it keeps throwing all those false alarms about Nerima._ For now, she returned to her studies. Weekend or not, it would not do well at all to get out of the habit.

----------------------------------------

Chrono looked at the central house on the Graham Estate and shook his head. Without his magical senses, he wouldn't be able to distinguish it from any of the other mansions that dotted the English countryside. He'd been expecting... He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Something more... ornate, more modern looking, not a classical English mansion with outbuildings and cobblestone drive.

He hadn't spoken to Gil Graham in years, not since the trial. The pain had been too fresh, the betrayal too deep, for him to speak to his old mentor and surrogate father after the trial. The man who had allowed his true father to get killed when he could have saved him, had used that death in a bid for power. A man who had, as his first and foremost lesson, taught Chrono that there was nothing more vile than betraying one's friends.

Chrono walked up the drive, his conflicted feelings roiling within him. He didn't want to see Gil Graham again. The bastard's betrayal had cut him deeply. Part of him condemned and railed at the idea of coming begging for information, part of him knew that he would, someday, need to put this aside. He'd brought Graham to justice, which his father would have wanted. To continue, to seek vengeance, would be... unworthy of him. He needed to be better than the man he was seeing, for that man had failed. Chrono would grant that his intentions were good, but he'd still failed, and his intentions did not justify the means, means that had included the death of Chrono's father and the condemnation of Graham's own homeworld.

The young admrial sighed. There was, to everything, a price. He'd known that since he was a lad of five, but events tended to underline it every so often. Rather a lot since he'd accepted the stars on his collar. There were days when he wished he'd stayed an Enforcer, followed the path Fate had taken. But naval command had looked like such a good career path. Nice pay, out of the weather, see the galaxy, easy. God, he'd been naive back then.

He shook his head, looked around. As places to go into exile went, a mansion in the English countryside didn't seem all that bad. There was a fancy-looking car in the drive with a coat-of-arms on it. Absently, he exchanged nods with the man standing guard next to it, a dignified, older gentleman who had the vague look of a butler. Chrono reached the main door, knocked. For a moment he stood there, feeling vaguely silly, then it opened. A woman in her early twenties was on the far side, smiling. "Chrono! How good to see you again."

For a long moment he didn't recognize her, then realization dawned. "Aria?"

She smiled. "Yes. Come in, do you like the new look?"

"I think I do."

"Flatterer. I'll admit I miss the old one."

Chrono shrugged. "I doubt a catgirl would go un-noticed in England."

She mock-sighed. "Too true, too true. Still, it's a nice enough place. And there are a smattering of supernaturals around. There's a conclave of local mages in Wales, which is fairly close by, though they're a secretive bunch."

"Oh? Any others?"

"A few here and there. The government has a small but elite group to keep any excesses of the local supernaturals out of the public eye. They tend to do OK, and they occasionally come to Father for advice."

"I somehow doubt that they would find the scorched earth policy all that appealing."

Aria shot him a black look. "He's not like that. Not anymore."

Chrono looked away. "I'm sorry, that was petty of me."

There was a moment of silence as Chrono shrugged out of his coat and hung it by the door.

"He's followed your career, you know."

"I've heard."

"He's quite proud."

"I'm... Happy to hear, that, I suppose."

"Come, he's waiting in the sitting room."

Chrono was lost in thought as he followed Aria. As a result he was taken utterly by surprise when her sister ambushed him from a side corridor.

"CHRONO!!!" shouted Lotte with undisguised glee. The ex-catgirl tackle-hugged him, landing the pair of them in a heap on the hardwood. He blinked. She'd changed her hair along with losing the ears and tail.

"Uh, nice to see you too, Lotte. The red hair suits you."

She smiled, sat back. "Oh, I've missed you Chrono. You know just what to say." She sighed. "I miss my tail."

"I can imagine. Uh, you do know that I'm married now, right?" He raised his hand, showing the gold band. "Can you get up before I get in trouble?"

"Oh come on. It's not like Amy's here."

"She spent too many years as a sensor operator. She'll know. Please?"

Sighing dramatically, Lotte stood. "Oh, fine."

"Thanks." Chrono dusted himself off. "Shall we continue?"

He told Lotte and Aria of his children as they walked the halls of the Graham Mansion and reached the sitting room. Aria went in first, announced him. It felt vaguely surreal. There were a number of chairs, two of them occupied. In one sat Gil Graham, looking a lot more than ten years older than he remembered, most of his hair a pale gray. The other was a woman he didn't recognize, pale blond hair hanging past her shoulders and wearing a business suit. He nodded to both of them.

Graham smiled and said, "Welcome to my home, Chrono."

"Mister Graham. May I ask who your guest is?"

She replied before Graham could. "Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing. I've been a friend of Gil for some years now."

Chrono nodded again, sat in a chair Aria let him to. "It's an honour to meet you, Miss Hellsing."

The pale woman's smile thinned. "Actually," said Graham, "She prefers Sir Integra. She's in charge of something of a local equivalent to the Bureau, protecting England from the supernatural."

"Ah. So it's not entirely a social association."

Sir Integra's smile widened slightly. "No. We consult Gil every so often on strange cases, though I do consider him a friend." The two shared a smile. "We met when one of the monsters Hellsing hunts tried to attack his estate. He did rather a thorough job on it before we arrived."

Chrono thought back to what Graham's limiter had been set to. "I guess you still have the old skills, Graham."

"Thank you. Now. What brings you all the way to Earth after so long?"

Chrono glanced sidelong at his guest. "TSAB business. I'm not sure it would be prudent to discuss it with outsiders." He gave Integra an apologetic look.

"I assure you, my ambitions do not include seeking out a fight off world. I have quite enough on my plate keeping England safe without borrowing trouble from beyond."

"Chrono, I trust Sir Integra implicitly. When she says she will not use any information against us, she is telling the truth."

Chrono strangled an angry retort - _And what makes you think I trust you, you traitorous bastard? _- This was not the time to antagonize the man he'd come here to learn from. "Fair enough." He took a calming breath. His emotions were under less control than he liked. "Some operatives on another case uncovered evidence of a possibly conspiracy of conquest on this planet based in Japan. We uncovered some information about them in the Infinite Library, but not as much as we'd like."

"Interesting. I assume you're here to see what, if anything, I know about this group while you have some field agents investigate?"

"Yes."

Graham took a sip of his drink. "Understandable. Though I'll warn you now, I don't know much of what's happening beyond England these days."

"The group calls itself the 'Sailor Senshi.' By the admission of one of their number they want to re-establish something called the 'moon kingom' and a 'silver millennium.' We've got records of an old one from ten millenia ago, and it isn't pretty, though the records are somewhat fragmented."

Graham frowned. "I've not heard of the group."

"I have," began Integra, "Freelance monster hunters that operate mostly in the city of Tokyo. Their field agents are supposedly all mages, and they have roughly nine of them- the reports we have are somewhat limited. We only have code names for their field agents, no real names, and they all take their code names from celestial bodies." She sipped her own drink. "We've had little need to learn more, and little opportunity. The last time we had an agent operating that far east was before they became active, about three years ago." She took another sip of her drink. "They're fairly popular folk heroes in Japan. I'm afraid we don't have much more information than what's publicly known. Though any long-term goals are unknown, at least in the general information we've been able to glean."

"Thank you. That gives us a count, which is more than we had. And if they're all mages that... complicates the picture somewhat, but we should be able to deal with it. If our field team runs into anything they can't handle, I'm just a teleport away."

Integra glanced at Graham. "Is he serious?"

The older man smiled. "Very serious. I've followed his career. He should be able to handle anything that crops up, especially if he's smart and brings his Marines with him instead of charging boldly ahead like a certain fool did once." The two men exchanged genuine smiles – it had been a long time since Chrono had thought about that little incident, that he'd first learned of through Aria. Graham continued, "I'll admit I'm curious about this. What information did you stumble onto that prompted this... concern?"

Chrono glanced briefly at Integra, decided that, at this point, concealing information was foolish. He went over everything Yuuno had managed to dig out of the Infinite Library, everything they had about the first Moon Kingdom, its bloody rise, reign, and fall, and the type of magic and ritual involved in each. He presented the information dispassionately, including that they didn't know for certain if the disaster that started the Moon Kingdom the first time was natural or artificial, and that their information was itself somewhat fragmented. Gil Graham and Integra Hellsing listed attentively. By the time he finished, Graham's expression was troubled – Chrono would be generous and assume it wasn't because he didn't want someone else to finish what he'd started in the Book of Darkness incident – and Hellsing's was one of cold fury.

"How _DARE_ they? They would damn all the world save their precious Japan?" She took a deep breath. "Do you know how they plan to do it?"

"Not yet. We're scanning the local region of space for anything that could cause the level of disaster they're talking about, as well as Earth itself. If it's a natural disaster they're waiting on, we'll find it and put a stop to it before it becomes a problem."

"And if it's not?" asked Graham.

"We find out what they're planning. If they intend to engineer some disaster for their own gain, we shut them down. Hard." He shrugged. "And if they're just some bunch of magical girls who stumbled onto some legend without details and decided they liked the name, well, we can make sure they don't plan on something like that. We're still looking for information."

Integra Hellsing nodded. "I'll get in touch with my contacts in a few agencies similar to ours. If any of them know anything I'll pass that information along to you." She paused. "And if you find that you need more firepower than you have at your disposal, please, let me know. Under the circumstances, we would be glad to be of assistance."


	10. Chapter 10

_Usual disclaimer stuff. Fan work, tribute, cracky fic, et cetera ad nauseum._

- Chapter 10 -

Worf walked _Voyager_'s corridors, eyes unseeing. Crewmembers got out of his way as he half walked, half staggered back to his quarters. He knew the stoic mask he showed the public was crumbling, knew they were seeing his thoughts and pain written in bold on his features. He couldn't bring himself to care. Memory brought him to the correct door.

Inside, he slapped at the door lock, gave throat to his anguish. Without witnesses he let himself collapse, his big frame wracked with sobs. Twice now, he'd watched her die. First due to his failure to protect her from Duras, and now at his own hand. Damn his duty. Damn his honor. Duty and honor were the draughts that had sustained him for years, and they were turning to ashes in his mouth now. He heard the door chime, and a blast of profanity erupted from his throat. He did not want to talk to anyone right now.

The chime did not repeat. Worf pulled himself to his feet. He was feeling drained, tired. He staggered to the replicator. "Bloodwine." A cup of dark liquid shimmered into existance in the replicator. Worf tossed it back, snared and hurled the now-empty cup across the room with a snarl. "Not synthahol! _True_ bloodwine, damn you!"

The computer's voice was as crisply pleasant as usual. "Unable to comply. Starfleet regulations prohibit the replication of alcohol."

Worf swore viciously and slammed a fist into the wall. Knuckles stinging, he staggered to a chair and sunk down into it. The spike of rage had burned through his pain for a moment, but it was gone now, leaving him with memories, might-have-beens, and pain. He had never forgotten her in all the years since her death, and to see her again like this...

He wished he'd never been brought here. He wished he was back home on DS9. He wanted to find Jadzia and hold her tight. To lose another beloved would be hell. He felt lost. He needed to get out of this place.

The door to his quarters opened. Worf swore and glared. Tom Paris stood in the doorway. "How did you get in here?"

"Medical override." He walked inside, the door closing behind him.

"You are no doctor. Leave me be."

"I'm as close as it gets here, other than the EMH." He crossed to the replicator. "Kentucky whiskey, 100 proof. Medical override Paris-delta-three-seven-gamma. One litre." He took the flask of amber coloured liquid, offered it to Worf. "Medicinal belt?"

The Klingon looked thoughtfully at the whiskey, took it. He took a long, deep drink, fiery liquid tracing its way down his throat. He sat back and seemed to deflate slightly. "Thank you."

"Who was she?"

"The mother of my son."

Tim was silent for a long moment. "Tell me about her."

Worf hesitated. By preference he was a private man. Both pains and passions he kept bottled up. But now... he looked at Tom. The human met his pain-wracked gaze. In Tom's eyes he saw a man concerned about a comrade. He saw a bit of a healer's compassion as well, and a desire to see pain lessened. For a long moment, the big Klingon wished he was back on DS9, where he could speak to a friend. To speak of such things would be far easier with a friend. Someone he trusted.

But that, it seemed, was not an option for him now. His friends were far away, many on Deep Space Nine, others scattered here and there on various assignments. A few Klingons he trusted enough to talk to, who would understand his pain and not belittle it, most of them still on Boreth. He knew, from the past, that talking through the pain would help, and yet he was embarrased to speak of such pain to a stranger.

Worf considered Tom Paris for a moment. The Engineering crew spoke highly of him as a man; professional, eager, and willing to help. A man of honour, who had reached out to B'Elanna Torres through her pain and anger, helped her make at least some peace with herself. He was well thought of by his comrades, and that meant much to Worf. A stranger, perhaps, to him, but a stranger motivated by care and concern. For now, that would do.

He began to speak, talking about K'Ehleyr. How they'd met, their courtship, meeting again on the _Enterprise_. How they'd met yet again on the _Enterprise_ during the Arbitration of Succession, meeting a son he'd never realized he had. How she'd gotten involved with the investigation, putting her honour on the line for the good of the Empire. How she'd died in his arms when Duras had killed her to try and save his bid for the Chancellorship. He talked about Alexander, about his adoptive human parents, about Jadzia. His hopes and fears. Once he got going he found that he could not stop.

When he'd finished, over an hour later, he felt... not so much better, but less bad. He felt as though he'd had a broken limb set – the pain was still there, but there was now a promise that it would heal. After he finished the two men sat together in silence for quite some time. Finally, Worf looked again at the whiskey flask. There was still a small measure of alcohol in the bottom. He finished it off, placed it on the central table. "Thank you."

"Are you going to be OK?"

"Not yet. But I will survive."

---------------------------------------------

Usually, Ami was the last to arrive at their meetings, but this time the studious senshi reached the shrine ahead of Makoto after her daily cram school. They got together fairly often, not always for business but to visit. Over the years they'd become very good friends and getting together was fun. It had been a quiet month overall, and that perverted troll seemed to still be recovering from the beating it had gotten at the hands of that Nanoha person a week ago. Ami said hi to the others and settled cross-legged on the floor, pulling a textbook out of her pack to study while they waited for Makoto.

Much as the others found it annoying, they'd accepted her obsession with study. As Rei had put it, it balanced out Usagi's utter lack of academic ambition. Rei and Usagi were taking verbal potshots at each other, as usual, while Rei continued sweeping up. Minako was watching their antics with amusement.

After a few more minutes, Makoto arrived. "Sorry I'm late, I got sidetracked."

"Ran into your boyfriend, Mako-chan?" Rei's expression was playful.

"Not today. I did run into some tourists who were wandering around. They were trying to find the subway, and we wound up chatting a bit." She smiled. "We have fans overseas. They were hoping to spot one of the legendary Senshi." The five friends shared a laugh at that.

"It's always nice to have fans," said Usagi cheerfully. That kind of thing made the fights and other disruptions to her life more bearable. None of them knew who she really was, of course, and she knew that was for the best, but still...

"Did they say where they were from?" Minako was curious. She'd done a fair bit of traveling herself, and it was always interesting to her.

"Canada." Makoto helped herself to some of the snacks Usagi had brought in. "They seemed nice enough girls."

"Of course they were nice. They're Canadian."

Ami finally pulled her nose out of the textbook she was reading. "Girls? Like, around our age?"

"Well, yes. Why?"

"Isn't it the middle of the school year?"

Minako shrugged. "So they have some weird holiday we don't."

Ami had done a fair bit of reading on a number of topics – when one studied as much as she did it became a habit. "I don't think so..." She reached into her handbag for the Mercury Computer. Setting it up with WiFi had been easy enough, once she finally decided to bother. "No... No holidays this month. None that would be long enough for a trip."

"They could be skipping a week, like Usagi does," said Rei.

"Hey! I've never skipped a week!" Usagi blew a raspberry at the grinning miko. "Anyway, why should we care?"

Ami shrugged. "No real reason, I suppose. Just... curious, I guess. Overseas fans. That is kind of cool, I didn't think anyone outside Japan would have heard of us."

"We should all meet them," began Rei, "just to have a bit of fun with them."

"What, as ourselves or as the senshi?"

"Just ourselves. Ice cream or something, chat a bit. I mean, they've come a long way to get here, and if they want to meet us, why not?"

Usagi smiled dreamily. "Ice cream sounds good. And it would be kinda neat to meet some real, live foreign people who _aren't_ from some negative energy world or dark kingdom or something who are intent on killing us."

For a moment the group realized how rare it was for them to meet _friendly_ strangers. There would be a bit of novelty to such a meeting. They exchanged glances. Minako said, "Did they give you a phone number or something. Mako-chan? Let's meet them."

Makoto shook her head. "I didn't think to ask, sorry." After a moment she brightened. "They did say they were staying in a hotel in Nerima. We could go and meet them."

Usagi made a disappointed noise. "Track them down? Uwah... that sounds like work." She blinked. "Waitaminute.. Nerima? I think someone at school mentioned something weird happening there last night."

Rei frowned. "Now that you mention it, I think I heard someone at my school talking about that too. We never really hear anything about that end of town unless one of the crazy martial artists trashes something big."

Ami had the Mercury Computer out. This had piqued her curiosity again. Minako walked over as she ran a search. The first Google result was.. unexpected. Of all the places she didn't expect to see Nerima as a topic of conversation, _Senshi Beat_'s forums were high on the list. The regulars liked Magical Girls, not martial artists.

The thread itself was even more surprising. It centered around a low-quality camera-phone video of a battle between a Youma and two Magical Girls. Ami swallowed. The time-chops on the video matched her false alarm last night. The other senshi gathered around as she scrolled through the thread. A few pages in, someone had a set of high quality pictures – said to have been purchased from a 'N.T.' who'd witnessed the fight – that gave them a much better picture of the two strangers.

Makoto gasped as she saw one of the pictures, showing the two Magical Girls after defeating the youma and before they raced off. "That's them! Thats the two tourists I met."

"Oh, that is way too weird to be co-incidence."

They flicked through the pictures. "Any details?"

Ami shook her head, scrolling through the thread and speedreading. "Not really. They didn't announce themselves or say anything but calling a couple of attacks. It showed up, they were after it in about thirty seconds, and it was toast right after that."

"They look skilled," muttered Minako. "And they took it out really quick."

"It might have just been a weak Youma," temporized Rei. "Did you get an energy reading last night?"

Ami nodded. "Yes, and it wasn't that impressive. I don't have the exact reading saved, I assumed it was a false alarm and cleared the data, but it was below the average power of the ones we've been getting lately."

There was a moment of thoughtful silence. "I'd have sensed any Youma wandering into Juuban, disguised or not," said Rei. "So they're probably other Magical Girls."

"Out of town magical girls who are trying to find us." Usagi sounded subdued. She'd _so_ been looking forward to a friendly meeting. And to ice cream.

Makoto said, "Well, for all we know they really do just want to meet us. It's not like it's impossible for Magical Girls to be fans of, well, Magical Girls."

"But we don't know that." Minako frowned thoughtfully. "It couldn't hurt to head down to Nerima and look around, see if we can find them." She looked at Mokoto. "If you can recognize them from pictures, they don't have a disguising power like we do."

Usagi said, "We'd probably be safe enough to meet up with them, try and get an impression of them."

"Not at a restaurant we like though," Makoto frowned. "They tend to get blown up." She sighed. "So much for a good time. I feel paranoid."

"With the number of people who really have been trying to kill us," said Minako, "I think it qualifies as valid concern, not paranoia."

"Well, yeah," said Usagi, shaking her head. "Let's pick a place in Nerima. With all the martial artists they gotta be used to places getting wrecked." She thought for a moment. "I don't have time to head down there today, though... family plans."

The group quickly got heads together to figure out a day they could go looking together- it would be most of a week before they could all line up the same night, but it seemed a good idea to go in force, just in case the outsiders meant harm.

-----------------------------------

Ryoga couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd been to Chicago, but it had been a while. For all civilization was preferable to crazy desert, popping into that civilization two feet above a heated pool full of little old ladies while in pig form was... less than preferable. He'd nearly gotten himself arrested, twice, in the space of ten minutes as he'd tried like hell to get somewhere private.

The second last time he'd been here, he'd gotten arrested for public indecency. Lucky for him, he'd stumbled over some cash under a barn right before the jump, so he'd been able to make bail. Luckier for him, he'd taken a left turn out of the building and wound up in the Amazon Rainforest. At least, that's what he'd thought at the time.

The last time he'd been here he found himself being chased down by a bounty huntress for jumping bail. And like damn near everything else about the way his luck ran, when he wanted to get away he had no luck. With what he'd learned about his curse lately, it seemed almost natural that the damned thing would be contrary. He was fairly sure that what coin he had wouldn't go over too well in an average store here, the Yen or the copper he'd gotten from the innkeeper. Though if the copper was actually copper, he vaguely recalled that pure copper had a decent metal value. No idea where to go to roll it into money, though.

Still. If he could stay calm and just start walking, inevitably he'd find himself elsewhere. With a little luck – and he figured he was due some of that at this point – he'd manage to find himself somewhere pleasant.

He kept to the back alleys, trying to pick his way across town without running into trouble. That plan came to a screeching halt when a pack of toughs moved out of the shadows before him.

"Howdy stranger," said the lead tough as he flipped open a balisong, "You trespassin'. You gotta pay the fine, you wanna get out of our territory alive."

Ryoga looked the group over. The leader had his bali, another pulled out a switchblade. The other two moved to try and flank him, one with a length of pipe in his hands, the other with a set of brass knuckles. He sized them up and reacted in the only way he could. He threw back his head and laughed.

The thugs exchanged confused glances – this wasn't what the surrounded mark was supposed to do – and fell back on plan B. The one with the brass knuckles punched Ryoga from behind, aiming for a kidney, the pipe cracked against the back of his head. The two with knives leapt in next, aiming to cut him as he went down. Partway through their lunges, the one with the switchblade suddenly realized that the mark wasn't actually going down, but too late to stop himself.

Ryoga grabbed the two knife boys by their weapon hands, tossed them up and over. They sailed through the air, Bali crashing face-first into an open dumpster, Switchblade flailing madly with one hand, almost catching a fire escape. The brief contact slowed his flight enough that he was able to get his feet below him before hitting pavement, and he rolled with the landing, getting off with a scrape on his arm and a twisted ankle. He pushed himself to his feet, painfully hobbled/ran away.

Pipe was the first of the two remaining thugs to recover from seeing their buddies go flying. He wound up for a two handed swing, brought it in at head height. Ryoga stopped his swing with a straightarm block that tore the pipe out of the swinger's grip. Hands stinging, he fell back against the far alley wall. The bandana wearing stranger's arm was unmarked, the pipe had a thirty degree bend in it from where it struck. Ryoga smiled, showing some fang, and the now-disarmed thug passed out.

Brass knuckles slammed into his back again. Ryoga turned towards the last thug, who's eyes were wild with desperation and disbelief. The fanged boy dodged the next few punches, caught a kick, and pushed. To his credit, the last thug managed to recover his balance, hopping a few times and catching himself against the red brick wall, avoiding going down. He had more raw skill than his companions, but, it seemed, no training to go with it. This really wasn't worth his time. Ryoga shifted into a ready stance, made a 'bring it on' gesture with one hand.

Knuckles charged, feinting with a high left, bringing his right fist, with its brass knuckles, around from below in an uppercut that aimed for Ryoga's jaw. Painfully obvious. This _really_ wasn't worth his time. Ryoga grabbed the feint, reached in with his other hand and tapped a ki-charged finger against the brass knuckle. It exploded into a rain of metal shards in the thug's hand, and Ryoga sent him flying into his friend. Adrenaline is a lovely drug – he didnt't feel a thing for most of a second, then he glanced down at his shredded hand with a confused expression, went pale, grabbed that hand below the wrist, and started screaming.

Ryoga shook his head. "Damn it Ranma, if you have to send me all over creation, would it kill ya to send me somewhere with decent opposition?" He turned and found himself seeing red.

Looking up, he saw the face of a man he'd hoped to avoid running into again, the man who'd arrested him on his second last visit to the city. It was a stern, authoritarian face under a wide brimmed hat of pale brown felt. "Mister Hibiki. You are under arrest for assault and use of excessive force." Behind the Mountie, Ryoga could see Switchblade, who wore a shit-eating grin. Bali was trying to pull himself out of the dumpster he'd landed in, and beside him stood the Mountie's partner.

Ryoga swallowed hard. "They attacked me, Constable Fraser, I was just defending myself."

Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP, glanced around the alley, looked at the fallen thugs. His partner, Ray Vecchio, walked up. "These guys are all repeat offenders, Benton. Assault, mostly, two armed robberies and some drug charges. And that's just what I can remember off the top of my head."

"That is certainly true. Mister Hibiki, can you tell me what happened?"

"I was walking along, minding my own business, when these four guys surround me and demand money. They drew weapons, I laughed at them, and they attacked."

"Thank you kindly." He turned to Switchblade. "Mister Locarno, that does not match your version of events." Vecchio muttered something along the lines of 'no shit' under his breath.

"I tol' ya, man, the freak just charged up and attacked us."

"Understood." Fraser and Vecchio exchanged looks. "I'm afraid you'll all have to come with us down to the station so we can sort this out, and get your friend some medical attention." The thugs shouted protest, protests that were cut short when Ray glared at them, one hand on his pistol grip. Ryoga snarled, "I told you! They attacked me! It was self defence!"

In that damnably reasonable tone, Fraser responded, "Again, mister Hibiki, we simply need to sort this out. And self defence or not, what you did to that gentleman's hand-" he pointed at Knuckles - "was excessive." Ryoga shuffled his feet a moment, embarrassed. That probably hadn't been his wisest move, but it had been a _long_ week. He somehow doubted that explanation would go over well, however.

"Well, yeah, I guess it was." He felt his cheeks heat. "I, uh, sure I can come down to the station with you." It wasn't like this was Nerima. If he claimed to have no idea why the thug's brass knuckle had shattered, they'd probably believe him. "I'm not totally sure what I did, though, to cause that."

Ray gave him an irritated look. "Says the self-described martial artist who thinks he's constantly in Japan. I know what you did, you used some crazy secret martial arts mojo."

Ryoga felt his cheeks heat. The Italian-American smiled grimly and nodded. "Thought so."

"Ray, I have to remind you that hardly constitutes evidence." Benton didn't even look up as he said it, occupied as he was with picking bits of metal out of Knuckle's hand, deftly dropping them into an evidence bag. He quickly finished, and started bandaging the thug's hand. "This should hold you until we get to the station.

"Th-thanks, man."

"Can we get moving here?" Ray turned his sour look at the other three thugs, who were taking turns shooting unhappy looks at Switchblade, who himself looked like he was really wishing he hadn't been so clever as to talk fast when he ran, literally, into a cop. Vecchio went around the group, cuffing them all. Ryoga tugged at his bonds a moment. The links holding the two halves of the handcuffs together were steel, but a light enough steel that he was fairly sure he could break it even without the Breaking Point. Still, for now he'd co-operate, if only so that next time Ranma's little gift sent him to this city he wouldn't have to outrun the law. He would see what, if anything, they were going to actually charge him with, and if these guys were low-level gangsters, they might let him off with a slap on the wrist.

They walked more or less in silence down to the precinct house. Ryoga was in a black mood, running a mental tally of all the ways Ranma had screwed things up for him, and it was an impressive list. It had gained a couple pages in the last few weeks. He was _really_ looking forward to meeting his rival again. He was going to have _so_ much fun rearranging Ranma's smug face. He was going to give that damned aquatransexual the beating of his life, and, hopefully, soon.

His train of thought was interrupted when they reached the precinct house. Walking out of it was that damned bounty huntress. Ryoga slowed unconsciously, looking around. If she was here, her crazy, grenade loving friend was probably close by. He wasn't the only one to notice her. Vecchio let go of Ryoga's arm and called out, "Hey, Vincent! What brings you to this end of town?"

The bounty huntress smiled. "Vecchio. Just dropping off a bail jumper."

Ray walked towards her, ignoring Ryoga. Legal stuff notwithstanding, Ryoga really didn't want to get blown up again. If Vecchio wasn't paying attention...

"That custom work I ordered done?"

"Just finished it this morning, check your voice-mail."

Ryoga started backing away. He'd make a run for the alley.

"I'll be along after this shift, just gotta get-" he looked back, saw Ryoga moving away. "Hey! Get back here you punk!"

Ryoga turned and ran. He pushed ki into one of the chain links of his cuffs, it broke apart with a _ping. _He heard at least one gun being drawn as he rounded a bend into the nearest alley and poured on his best speed. Glancing behind him, he saw the bounty huntress corner just ahead of Ray, both with guns drawn. He heard Ray swear as he turned back, head down and arms pumping as he tried to outrun the inevitable bullets. Getting shot sucked. He came to an intersection, hung a hard left. He looked back again, wondering how close his pursuers.

Not paying attention to where he was going, he ran straight into a full trashcan. They went over hard, years of experience allowing him to roll with the fall and back to his feet. It wasn't until he looked ahead of himself again a few steps later that he realized he wasn't in a grimy alley in Chicago anymore. He and the trash can were in a forest somewhere. For a long moment he looked around. This was a pleasant enough looking place. "Where am I now?" he shouted, more from habit than anything else.

No answer was forthcoming. He adjusted the straps on his pack again, popped the handcuffs with some carefully applied breaking points, and picked a direction. He'd find civilization eventually.

A very confused alley cat climbed out of the toppled trash can. Aboreal instincts, long suppressed by the realities of city life, were telling her that this was a place of great wonder and bounty. Her mind was racing as she tried desperately to spot something – anything – that resembled a building or, better yet, a city. All this green stuff could _not_ be healthy.

-------------------------------

Ranma was slowly getting more comfortable with the huge amount of magic surrounding him aboard the _Pauline_. There was a lot of interesting stuff being done with it, not just the kind of nasty and unpleasant stuff he was used to being on the receiving end of. He'd learned a little about things from the crew, and a little more from the marines. Some of whom had been trained, he learned, by Nanoha – he'd have to see what she could do at some point. He was always open to picking up new techniques. Not just the stuff he'd expected, like the floating displays and making-fresh-air, and such. Stuff as basic as speech – the ship had a complex translation spell built into it so that everyone aboard could understand each other and the writing.

The learning of that had been a little embarrassing, he'd complimented one of the crew on his Japanese. The crewman had laughed, and explained about the spell. Looking back, it made sense, but kamis had he been embarrassed. At some point he'd need to apologize to the guy for his reaction. Translation, temperature, lighting, all of them mostly managed by magic. He suspected at least some went into the food.

Reminding himself of this, and that none of the magic aboard had hurt him, he sat in the middle of an intricate lattice of spells and tried not to fidget. They were, by Fate's estimate, about a day behind Ryoga. The last jump spot had been in a weird-as-hell desert. This one was in a city in America of all places. Ranma wished they'd had the time to take on some exploration, but the navy people wanted to keep after Ryoga and wrap this up as soon as possible. He supposed he couldn't blame them – their explanation of what his curse was doing to space had mostly gone over Ranma's head, but he could recognize the genuine concern that it was doing Bad Things. As a martial artist, he had a duty to help prevent Bad Things if he could. As an aquatranssexual who didn't _want_ to be one, he had a desire to co-operate so they would de-curse him.

After a long fifteen minutes of Ranma sitting in something wet and vaguely foul smelling, the two mages exchanged looks, like they were talking to each other or something. The gold-and-purple runes swirling around him dissapated. He stood and tried to brush the whatever-it-was off his pants. "Got a trace?"

"Yes," replied Nanoha. "It feels like the destination world has a lot of ambient power, but we've tracked it down. We should be able to plot a course for it."

"Lots of ambient power?" he asked in a leading tone.

"We may have to do a full ground-level trace, but we should be able to track him."

Ranma nodded. "Sounds good. Ready when you are."

Nanoha and Fate exchanged nods, then the _Pauline_'s teleporter swept them up.

---------------

The world below was green and verdant, and Ranma had no doubt at all about the mage's statement that it had a lot of power. Even in orbit he could feel a lot of ki floating around down there. Nanoha and Fate were going over stuff with the sensor operators and he suspected that they would end up having to do this the long way. They were taking way too long for this to work out the easy way.

His suspicions were confirmed shortly thereafter. "We're going to need to do this at ground level," began Fate, "There's just too much energy floating around."

He shrugged. "I figured it would be something like that. A little fresh air'll do me good."

"We were just groundside a few hours ago."

"In a _city_. Fresh air."

----------------------------------------

Son Gohan was happy. Summer was almost over, and he'd soon be going to a school in Satan City for the year. He'd done well with his summer studies, and his mother had agreed to taking a day of rest. He'd contacted his mentor, Piccolo, as well as Krillin and Eighteen. Chi-Chi had put the kibosh on the initial plan – a bit of training before the school year – but she'd liked their secondary idea, that of a general day of ease with old friends. It wouldn't be training, but it would still be fun.

Chi-Chi had taken the generalized gathering/picnic idea and added to the guest list. Gohan didn't mind Bulma coming along, but that inevitably included Vegeta. That part, he was less enthused about, but he could deal with the arrogant prince's barbs for an afternoon – especially since he would get to spend some time with some friends he saw far too infequently these days.

Goten and Trunks were spending the day with Trunk's grandparents, which was probably a plus – he liked the kids but they could be amazingly annoying. They were en route to an old traning spot out in the backcountry. It would be a good day.

-----------

The teleporter swept them up with its now-familiar tingle and deposited them in a forest glade. Rather incongruously, there was a battered looking trashcan lying on its side there, rough-looking alley cat perched in its mouth, snarling at them. Ranma edged away from the cat, looking at it with trepidation. He was _not_ going to lose it. He wasn't. Especially if the cat kept its damned distance. His week had been weird but not bad, and he wasn't going to let Pop's stupid training change that.

Fate was looking around, surveying the area. Nanoha was casting her searcher spell, sending a couple orbs to follow Ryoga's trail. _Try to do the same_, Ranma thought,_ it'll distract you from the cat. _It looked like this place had had rain recently, he saw some footprints in the grass that could have been Ryoga's. He'd have to take a closer look. He moved to do so, took a breath, and reached out with his ki. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to get much, this planet had a lot of the stuff floating around and he hadn't tried to do this kind of thing much before.

------------

_I'm not seeing any immediate magical sources or threats, _Fate told Nanoha telepathically. _Got anything on your Wide Area Search yet?_

_Not yet, _the brunette replied, _but I've only just started. _

Fate was about to respond when Ranma suddenly whirled to the east, eyes wild. "What is it?"

His expression was one of panic, wordlessly, eloquently, saying 'oh craaaap.' He pointed past the edge of the clearing. In the distance, Nanoha and Fate could see a group of figures moving towards them. Nanoha grimaced. There was a lot of power in those figures, and she'd missed it.

_Shouldn't have set the WAS so specifically. It may not be magic, but there's a lot of power in those people._

_There is. Confront?_

_Not for now._

"Lets just act casual," said Fate. Ranma looked at her like she was crazy, but did an admiral job of schooling his features to impassivity. She couldn't blame him. These strangers seemed to use a power similar to the 'ki' he used, but three members of the group were at least an order of magnitude more powerful. It was hard to tell how they stacked up against herself and Nanoha, their power was too unfamiliar to really compare.

In the lead of the group was a shortish male with spiky hair. To his left was a greenskinned alien in white and purple, to his right a shorter male human with black hair and a blonde female. Two other females and a teenaged male stood behind them, with expressions of concern, fury, and curiosity, respectively. The dark haired female hissed something to the teenager, who nodded.

The leader walked ahead of the group with a jaunty step. With an acusatory snarl, he said, "What are you doing on our world, trespassers?"


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: fan work; I don't own it; just having fun; crouching in my authorial bunker watching the cracky mayhem._

- Chapter 11 -

"What are you doing on our world, trespassers?" Vegeta was trying to keep his tone accusatory, but Piccolo could hear the undertone of eagerness. He didn't want answers, he wanted a fight. None of the Z-fighters was anywhere near full power, but the stranger's weren't all that powerful from what he could tell. Vegeta could get himself a good fight by simply not powering up; he'd be a rough match to either of the females in power that way.

The female in white answered. "We're tracking someone. We won't be here long."

"And just why are you 'tracking' somebody through the wilderness?" No doubt about it, Vegeta was just looking for an excuse now. Piccolo shifted into a ready stance, eyed the other two. The female in black seemed to have reached the same conclusion as he had, her scythe at the ready. The male in red was younger, looking to be about Gohan's age. His power level was pathetic, however, barely a quarter of Krillin's.

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you. The situation is classified."

"Sure it is," Vegeta growled, then charged. The two females took to the sky, the male bounded away.

For a moment, Piccolo was tempted to let the arrogant Saiyan deal with them himself. But it had been a long time since he'd been in a good fight, and these strangers were unlikely to just leave peacefully after getting attacked. He lept skyward as the two females separated, leaving the weakling male for one of the others to deal with. He knew that Chi-Chi would not allow Gohan to fight, not a week before he started school. Even Krillin should have no problems with the weakling. Vegeta streaked towards the one in white, only to ricochet off of some kind of shield. The black-clad one was upon him before he could recover. Piccolo angled towards the one in white. Like Vegeta, he did not bother to power up at first, seeking a good fight. This should be interesting.

--------------

Ranma looked up at the duel developing in the sky and shook his head. He felt halfway useless. Nanoha could fly. Fate could fly. These strangers could fly, and they had so much ki that they made Happosai or Cologne look like ordinary harmless old folks. They were creating a hell of a light show up there. Unfortunately a tad too high for him to get close to. He knew the magical girls had some kind of communicators, he wished he'd been given one, if they could bring one of them into range he'd be able to contribute to this fight.

Then another powerful ki source approached him and he realized that today was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

-------------

Krillin liked being useful, it was something of a change. Until Goku managed to return from the dead again, they were down to three heavy hitters, and Chi-Chi had forbidden Gohan to get into a battle this close to the start of school. To his credit, he'd not pressed the point, he was being a good son. With Piccolo and Vegeta taking on the two women, it had fallen to either him or Eighteen to deal with the youth. She'd deferred to him. And so he would deal with this himself.

---------------

Years of training helped Ranma keep a confident expression on his face, but it was a front. The dimunitive man in an orange gi had an amazing amount of ki, enough to dwarf Saffron or Herb. He charged Ranma, flying rather than running, swinging hard for his midsection. He was well past, turning around before Ranma even registered his attempt to dodge. The monk tried to rush him again; again Ranma dodged almost without thought. It took a few moments for his mind to catch up, and he nearly laughed.

The monk tried to attack him again, a rapid fire series of punches and kicks. Ranma dodged them all with ease. For all his power, the monk's technique was amazingly sloppy, and quite simplistic, every attack telegraphed. Akane could have taken him on. He could end this at any time, but first he'd see if he could figure out how this guy got so powerful.

------------

Vegeta hadn't much cared which of the two he got to fight, so long as he'd gotten a fight out of the deal. Sparring with Piccolo had lost its appeal, and Kakarro's whelp was far too beholden to his weakling of a mother. The girl was fast and she hit fairly hard. And her techniques were unusual.

This was going to be a fine fight, and just what he needed. He was confident that he could end it at any time by powering into his Super-Saiyan form, but he doubted it would be needed. On the ground, Krillin was dealing with their companion. Even he should be more than enough to deal with such a weakling.

She came at him again, her scythe changed into a greatblade of energy. He blocked her swing with his hand, countered with a blow to her armored midsection. As she fell back a moment, he gathered his ki and unleashed a volley of blasts at her. She countered with a volley of her own. This was going to be a good battle.

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Nanoha didn't know what species this green creature was, but he was powerful. After a few moments of close fighting, they'd begun blasting away at each other from range. Then he'd rushed her again. It was a fast and fluid conflict, a midair dance punctuated with energy beams. Neither of them was giving the other a chance to charge up for any truly powerful attacks, which was probably a good thing for her as the green creature was immensely powerful. At least she didn't have that power limiter anymore.

_Doing ok?_ She thought at Fate.

_So far. He's fast but sloppy. Not much skill to go with his power._

_About my assessment of them. We need to end this and get back to our search. Let's hurry._

_Agreed._

----------

"Come on ya little twerp! You have to do better than that if you think you can beat me!" The boy in red used his head as a springboard as he dodged yet another attack. Krillin was furious. Even if the boy had been masking his power level, there was no way he could still be hiding it while doing what he was doing. Krillin was NOT going to lose to someone so weak.

"Stand still!"

"Why? If I do you'll hit me." He dodged a ki blast. "I don't wanna let someone as sloppy as you hit me. That'd just be pathetic."

The monk growled. He would not lose to this... child. He gathered his ki and shut his eyes."Taikyoken!"

-------------

Vegeta gritted his teeth as the blonde's sword sent him reeling. She was damnably fast; he'd only managed to land a handful of blows so far. He was so very tempted to power up and end this... but he'd been keeping tabs on Piccolo. The Namekian hadn't done any powering up yet, and he seemed to be doing fine against his opponent. He would not be the first to show weakness.

He managed to avoid her next rush, took aim at her. A moment of charging and he blasted at her. "Galick Gun!"

The blonde caught the blast on her shields, charged a reply. "Photon Lancer!" The golden beam nearly caught him, but not quite. Another quick check showed that Piccolo had yet to power up. Well. He'd have to do this the hard way.

---------

Gohan was itching to get into this fight. The fighting styles used by all three of the strangers were different from anything he'd seen before. And they were good. The one in white was keeping up with Piccolo blast for blast, the one in black was running Vegeta ragged(he was probably enjoying watching that a little too much) and the boy was far more skilled than his power level would indicate.

But his mother didn't want him fighting. He recognized and understood that even if he didn't agree. But he would be a good son. It wouldn't be easy, but he'd manage. Beside them, Bulma was watching Vegeta fight, fixated on her husband, exchanging a few words with Eighteen, who was, if not enthused, at least less disinterested than normal.

At a flash of light, he shifted his attention back to Krillin.

---------------

A blast of brilliant light erupted around the diminutive martial artist. Ranma swore and lept backwards, blinking rapidly. A kick caught him in the midsection, sent him flying. The little monk hit harder than Taro. That flash was a nice trick, and Ranma would rather like to learn it. He needed to get this fight under control again, fast.

"Kamehameha!" Another ki blast streaked towards him. Half blind and in midair, Ranma could only partly dodge it. There was a moment of vertigo before he made a splash landing in a nearby pond. She vanished into the Umisenken as she scrambled out of the water.

-----------

Krillian was sure that he'd at least clipped the bastard. He raced after the foreigner, determined to keep the momentum in the fight on his side. He didn't have the youth in view but he could feel his ki. He lost his track for a moment as the boy's ki shifted, but he gained it again. Whoever he was he wasn't getting away that easily- then abruptly the boy's ki vanished altogether. What in the world?

--------------

Ranma smiled and dropped out of the tree she'd hidden in. Powerful or not, he was only human. A series of quick blows to specific pressure points and the little man was helpless, and would be for several hours.

"A good try, pal, but not enough."

-----------------

Gohan was more than a little surprised when the boy vanished from every sense he possessed. Then he reappeared – wait, something was wrong. He looked different.. His musings were interrupted as he watched the stranger take out Krillin with a single attack. As best Gohan could recall that was the first attack the stranger had made the entire fight. The monk dropped hard and sprawled on the ground like he was out cold. Chi Chi had seen too, her grip on his arm tightened. "Gohan..."

He was about to say something when Eighteen noticed and rendered the whole thing moot. He almost pitied the stranger as the android roared off towards him with murder in her eyes.

---------

Piccolo tried again to rush the woman in white. She was fast and tough. And quick with that shield of hers. He hated fighting mages who knew what they were doing. He parried a swing from her staff – it looked like it had changed shape again – and got in a shot of his own, catching her in the shoulder. She vanished, he felt her ki reappear behind him. The woman was definitely better at long range than up close.

She tagged him with another fast volley as he maneuvered towards her again. Keeping close kept her off balance, and gave him the advantage. He knew Vegeta. That arrogant son-of-a-bitch would die before admitting he was weaker than Piccolo, and as long as Piccolo didn't power up, Vegeta would be forced by his ego to keep fighting in his normal Saiyan form. He would enjoy seeing the prince lose.

Glancing down, he saw Eighteen racing towards the third stranger. He'd managed to defeat Krillin... impressive. He must have been hiding his true power.

For now he'd concentrate on this fight. Even with the fight on his terms – he was faster than she was – she fought with skill and tenacity. He smiled. This trip had definitely been worth it.

"Why do you smile?" she asked as she caught his next rush with her shield.

"Because this is the most fun I've had in years, girl."

"You find this kind of fighting fun?" The two drifted apart a moment, their guards still up.

"It can be. It's the challenge, girl."

"So you fight for the thrill. Not for a person or a place or a world?"

"You think too much. The fight is all." He resumed his assault.

------------

Bulma winced as her husband took another hit in the skies above them. Vegeta was a flawed man, and there were days when she wondered what it was that had first drawn her to him, but she was in love with him. And watching him get pounded was hardly fun. He was doing poorly against the stranger in black.

He hadn't powered up. At this point it could only be his pride, his damnable, overweening pride that forced him to walk the hardest path in the name of not looking weak. She knew it wasn't just the stranger's speed, she had seen him shift into his Super Saiyan form in less than a second before. He was treating this like a competition, not between him and the stranger, but between him and Piccolo. And she bet the damned Namekian was doing this deliberately.

She glanced away from her husband, looked to the other aerial fight. The contrast was great, and even her untrained eye could see why quickly. The green demon was controling the pace of the fight, making the white devil react to him. It was a smarter fight, but it was costing her husband dearly.

--------------

Ranma wasn't sure what to make of the blonde.

She was faster than the monk had been, and certainly seemed more powerful, but her technique was just as sloppy. And she had no ki. At first Ranma'd thought she was using something similar to the Umisenken, but she would have to be an absolute grandmaster to hide every scrap of ki in her body and put up this kind of assault. Absolutely relentless she might be, and coldly furious, but she was by no means a grandmaster.

Ranma didn't know what she was, but she quickly determined that this blonde's fighting style wasn't worth studying in the hope of learning new techniques, just like the monk. A pity, really. She hated beating up girls, even when she was one. She'd try the pressure-points first, try to avoid hurting her.

------------

Vegeta was starting to get desperate. The black-clad woman was eluding him, raining blow after blow upon him, some at range, others close in with her damnable sword. He was doing all he could without powering up, but he could not match her pace in his normal Saiyan form. Piccolo still hadn't powered up; and the Saiyan prince would be damned before admitting, even tacticly, that the Namekian was more powerful than him in any state.

The only problem was, at this rate, he was going to lose. The realization filled him with rage. He pushed himself harder, eeking out more speed from the power he'd already gathered. He would not go quietly. Nor would he admit being a lesser fighter than Piccolo. He darted back, trying to gain distance – the blonde seemed primarily a close range fighter. An exchange of blasts would probably be in his favour.

-----------

Krillin had never felt so powerless in his life, not even while trying to fight the monster Cell. He couldn't feel anything below his neck, only knew he was breathing because he wasn't dying. The strange boy – now a strange girl- had only hit him about a dozen times, all in one rush, but it had been enough.

He managed to turn his head enough to watch his wife land a blow to her midsection. He grinned savagely as the red-clad stranger smashed through one tree and bounced off another. Eighteen moved in to follow up on her attack, but the now-redhead was tough, she'd already bounced up. She was also quicker than she looked, dodging and parrying her way through Eighteen's assault. Though the stranger didn't seem able to fly on her own, she was doing a lot of leaping around, meeting Eighteen's attacks in midair, almost seeming quicker up there.

She dodged a volley of energy blasts, bounding between several trees and finally landing almost elegantly. Eighteen charged, fist cocked for a punch fit to shatter bedrock. The redhead actually smirked.

Krillin didn't even see her move. One moment, she was smiling, delivering another of her endless braggart lines as Eighteen's fist swung towards her face. The next, she was off to the side, one hand holding Eighteen's arm, steering the android's powerful charge into the ground below. He had no idea how she was doing it.

-------------

Fate flew a long, lazy arc, Bardiche in Shooting Form, raining fire on the battered warrior. She had to respect his raw stubborn tenacity. It wasn't going to do him any good, but it was impressive. She smiled, his fighting style was reliant on raw power, not skill. She wasn't letting him use that raw power, controlling the pace of the action like a maestro would control her orchestra.

"Bardiche, Zanber form." Her Device shifted in her hands as she watched her opponent's movements for a short moment. As before, the punch-drunk version of a headlong charge.

_Any progress, Nanoha?_

_None. He's too fast for me to get off a good shot._

_I'll be there in a moment._

It was time to end this. "Sonic move." Power gathered; the universe seemed to slow around her. She streaked towards the man, who seemed nearly motionless to her time-stretched view. The Sonic Move ended just as she got into reach; he had just enough time to realize she had moved before the fight was over.

------------

Bulma screamed, a sound of fear and anguish, as the blonde delivered a last, brutal assault to Vegeta. Speechless, Gohan watched the pureblooded Saiyan fall to earth, watched the cloud of dust fly up at his impact. Bulma raced towards him. The youth's mouth was dry. The stranger had beaten Vegeta. She raced with that impressive speed towards his mentor. He knew what he had to do.

Chi Chi knew it too. Her grip on his arm faltered a bare moment, then redoubled. He turned, looked her in her fear-clouded eyes. "Mother... Mother, I know you do not want me to fight today. But if I don't stop them, nobody will." Her eyes cleared, but her grip held fast. A small sound of fear bubbled in her throat. "Mother. Please let me protect my friends."

Chi Chi's eyes closed, she sobbed once, loudly, then nodded and released his arm. Gohan hugged her close for a moment. Then he let her go, fixed his gaze on the fight between the strangers and his mentor. He didn't know who they were, why they were here, or what they wanted. He didn't much care, either. Power gathered in him as he shot skyward. He would not make the same mistakes as Vegeta.

A golden carona of power flared about him as he shifted into his Ascended Super-Saiyan form, and charged.

-----------

The pressure point attack had been useless, and she'd gotten at least one cracked rib out of the deal. Ranma wasn't quite sure what the blonde was, and she didn't have time to figure it out. She'd felt one of the two that Nanoha and Fate were fighting fall, then felt another immense ki source join the fight. She tried not to let it distract her, she had a fight to win.

The blonde seemed a slow student, she kept trying to rush Ranma and even when she tried to feint in those rushes she was telegraphing her moves. She came at Ranma again, feinting a punch to cover a kick. Ranma obligingly failed to move aside, caught the kick and redirected its momentum to feed the stranger to the turf again. Instead of letting her recover, she followed up this time, using the Amaguriken to rain punches on the prone woman. Her allies would probably need her momentarily.

She maintained the Amaguriken for just under two seconds before she had to stop. It felt like she was punching a steel beam, her knuckles came away raw and bleeding. The blonde's skin was actually split in places, exposing the glitter of metal and circuitry. She tried, feebly, to rise, failed. Ranma nodded, turned, raced towards the battle overhead.

She got her first good look at the newcomer to the fight, and was amazed. His power dwarfed that of the other two combined. He was shrouded in a battle aura that litterally blazed as he tore into the two magical girls.

------------

Eighteen tried to move, failed. Something in that last barrage had gotten through, and she couldn't move her legs. She couldn't shunt power into her weapon systems either; or her flight systems. She tried again to rise, failed. Her sensors worked; the bitch was heading for Gohan and Piccolo, which would hopefully end badly for her.

When she'd seen that Krillin was not in serious danger, she'd changed tactics from _kill _to_ maim_. Non-life-threatening or not, no-one did that to her husband, whose ego was somewhat fragile at his ineffectiveness against their usual opponents at the best of times. Disabling him with some exotic attack, but leaving him aware of what was happening around him as the fight continued? Sheer torture, and not something she would tolerate. So she'd been pulling her blows slightly, trying to outthink the speedy little redhead and hit her hard enough to injure without granting the sweet bliss of unconsiousness.

But whoever she was, she was damnably skilled, and damnably lucky. _Something _had been disconnected within her. She wasn't sure what.

"Honey? Can you hear me?"

She turned her head. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Krillin's prone form. "I'm here, Krillin. I'll be fine." She sent a mental command to start a diagnostic and figure out what the hell was wrong. "It's with the others now."

Krillin nodded slightly, aparantly the most he could move. "I guess." A quirk of a smile. "Now you know how I always feel in these things."

The two shared a sharp, slightly bitter laugh.

-------------

The two magical girls together had nearly defeated the green monster when another fighter arrived. This one hadn't boasted or postured. The golden haired boy smashed into them like a freight train.

He was just too fast! Too fast and too powerful. He'd pushed them entirely onto the defensive, kept the pressure up on both of them, even when they'd tried to split up. He was shrugging off Nanoha's Axel Shooter volleys, and wasn't giving her time to cast anything more powerful. He'd clearly been watching the previous fights.

Fate's eyes widened as his snap-fired ki blast slammed into her shields full-on, nearly shattering them and sending her plummeting to the ground before she could recover. Hands caught her in midair. She looked; Ranma in female form. "I- you- thanks."

Ranma's attention was riveted on the fight. The green monster was back in it, and he and the golden-haired warrior were hammering on Nanoha. "Don't mention it. Get him down where I can reach, ok? I got an idea."

Fate nodded, took to the skies again.

"And be ready to run like hell!" Ranma shouted after her.

_Try to get lower._

_Aah! Ok, what's your plan?_

_Not mine, Ranma's. She thinks she can deal with this._

_Oh-oof-kay._

_------------_

Piccolo had let Gohan's arrival distract them long enough for him to power up. He was nearly as powerful as Gohan now, and they were laying into the strangers. He almost didn't want to hit them so hard, not after they'd helped him embarrass Vegeta, but he'd manage. He glanced around. Somehow, their underpowered companion was still in the fight, doing something on the ground. That didn't follow. He couldn't even fly. How the hell could he beat Eighteen?

-----------

They were getting the hell beat out of them, but the the magical girls were bringing the two fighters lower. Ranma concentrated, holding the Soul of Ice as he moved, trying to keep under them, trying to direct the ki in the area. And there was a lot of it floating around.

And suddenly the gold-shrouded boy was there, attacking. She reacted quickly, using speed and reflexes and the mad movements of Musabetsu Kakutō Ryū to evade and still complete the spiral. And after a moment, she was ready. She danced back another step and then swung at the stranger with an uppercut. "Hiryū Shōten Ha!"

The golden-haired boy had time to sneer at her miss before the whirlwind took hold.

-------------

A whirlwind flashed into existence on the battlefield, surrounding Ranma and the golden-haired boy. It grew exponentially, howling winds tearing grass and soil, engulfing the nearby trees.

Fate now understood Ranma's statement to run like hell.

She and Nanoha were making the best time they could away from the windstorm, both more than a little ragged. After most of a minute, the hurricane behind them seemed to blow itself out; they looped around and flew back to the fray.

----------

Gohan hung in midair, trying to catch his breath. Piccolo was out, unconscious on the ground below. His mother seemed fine, and he could feel Krillin, Bulma and Vegeta's ki nearby. He was amazed at what the stranger had accomplished; turning the Saiyan's own power against him. That technique had fairly torn the energy from him, powering him down to his normal Super-Saiyan form. Whoever she was, she was far more dangerous than he, than any of them, had first thought. She would have to be dealt with.

----------

Ranma had landed badly, her left knee screamed in agony whenever she put weight on it. She hadn't expected the Hiryū Shōten Ha to create a storm that big – it had made the one Saffron had fueled look like a gentle breeze. There were big trees torn out of the ground in places. The golden boy and the green guy between them had pumped out so much power that the technique had been unable to absorb it. The ki-fueled storm hadn't dissipated or consumed itself the way it usually did. It had actually overloaded and _blown itself out_. Ranma would have bet money that wasn't actually _possible_ before today.

The golden boy's power was still putting Saffron to shame, he shone like a small star in midair. His power seemed much diminished, but it was still far beyond anything Ranma could hope to aspire to. She strained her hearing, he was saying something as he prepared some kind of attack.

"Kame..."

Ranma started running, weaving and bounding, trying to keep from putting her whole weight on her left leg.

"Hame..."

She tried to use the Umisenken, but failed. She couldn't concentrate enough to manage the stealth technique.

"HA!"

A beam of incandescent white energy hammered into the ground, swept towards her, leaving blackened, charred earth in its wake. She tried to shut out the pain, kept running and dodging, wracking her brains for anything she could try to win this.

Frantically scrambling, almost unconsciously she patted down her pockets looking for what she did not know. Loose change, candy, lint. Nothing. She needed a plan. She needed an idea. And she needed it soon.

-----------

Gohan concentrated on maintaining his Kamehameha wave, tried to sweep the blast onto the running girl, but there was no pattern to her movements, nothing he could use other than trial and error to hit her. That was fine with him. This fight had left him frustrated and angry and it was time to deal with this stranger. Wait.. her friends were coming back.

They were both charging something up. He roared towards them as they fired.

"Starlight Breaker!" A blazing purple beam reached out for him, he dodged above it with contemptuous ease.

"Trident Smasher!" A trio of blasts, enough to clip him, but not enough to stop him.

Gohan charged, not straight for them - even now their shields would probably save them from a direct assault - but between them. Roaring in challenge, he released a massive flare of energy, rolling over their shields and sending the two reeling.

"Hey! Over here, asshole!"

He turned, saw the girl in red. "Not giving up, huh?"

"Why would I do something like that? I've defeated a god before. You? You're nothin' but a dumb kid."

Gohan's Saiyan blood was thundering in his ears, he would not allow that insult to go unpunished. Charging another Kamehameha, he streaked towards the girl.

------------

Ranma had used the time the magical girls had bought her to come up with a plan. It was a desperate ploy, one she wasn't entirely sure would work, but it was the best she could come up with. And it was a time for desperate measures. Ranma waited until the golden boy unleashed his blast, dodging among the trees. They couldn't stand up to it long, but they did disrupt the blast wave, opening small pockets of safety that she could use. Her leg screamed at every step. She wouldn't be able to keep this up for long, but she shouldn't need to.

The boy closed in, disdaining to keep his distance. Good, she'd made him mad. Mad usually equaled dumb. "Mighty sloppy, that kind of technique. Do ya make your mommy mad when ya mess up the yard with it?"

"Shut up!" The ki blast chopped off; he charged. "You will pay for what you've done to my friends!"

"Talk's cheap, kid." Gods but he was fast. Ranma drew upon the Amaguriken, using every scrap of skill she had to keep up, dodging what she could, blocking the rest; ignoring the pain that shot through her arms with each blow deflected. "You want me to pay? You gotta make me. And I don't see how you could."

The stranger gritted his teeth, disdained to respond. Ranma managed, barely, to keep up. She fell back, moving in a spiral, trying to hold the Soul of Ice. Two more circles and they'd be at the pattern's center. Then she'd just pray that one of the magical girls would catch her before the storm - or the fall - killed her.

-----------

Gohan belatedly realized that he'd seen the girl try to move like this before; just before unleashing the ki-leaching whirlwind. He lept away, had the pleasure of seeing her falter and stumble at his sudden removal from her plan. "Not gonna fool me twice like that, little girl."

"It was a hope. The first two never learned."

She was in rough shape, he saw, heavily favouring one leg. He would end this now. "Wanted to turn my ki against me again, huh?"

"Hey, it's a great little trick."

"You want my Ki? Take it!" He started to power up.

------------

Ranma growled. This was going to be dicey. The boy gathered his ki, channeling it into another blast. He was fast enough that she probably wouldn't be able to charge him. She would have to try this the hard way; gathered ki of her own. If nothing else, she was still confident that she was more skilled than the golden boy, and her backup should be along soon.

"Kamehameha!"

"Mōko Takabisha!"

The two ki blasts met in midair and for a split second they seemed to consume each other in mutual annihilation. Then the golden boy's blast surged over her own and engulfed her. She screamed in pain as the raw, almost elemental power washed over her.

Then a pillar of purple light descended from on high and slammed him into the turf hard. His energy blast lasted long enough to slew into a tree, blowing it over, before he lost it. He shook his head, tried to rise, and a golden blast slammed him back down. Ranma looked up, waved feebly at Nanoha and Fate as they hovered overhead. Then she staggered back into a tree, sagged against it. The world swirled in her vision; she clenched her eyes shut, struggled to stay upright.

----------

Gohan staggered to his feet, legs not wanting to hold him properly. This wasn't going well. He glanced at his opponent, then away. There wasn't much left of her top. He blushed furiously.

"Don't tell me.. you want.. another beating?" She spoke in a weary, pained, but unmistakably defiant tone.

"Only if you insist. But if you're willing to stop, so am I." A glance confirmed that the two flyers were hovering overhead, waiting to see what he did before blasting.

"Fine with me. We didn't start this, your buddy did."

Some odd impulse caused him to defend Vegeta. "Not like your friends didn't help, acting the way they did."

She snorted, then gasped in pain. "They ain't much smarter than your bunch, sometimes. Wasn't my idea." She pushed away from the tree, extended a hand. "Truce?"

"Uh.." blood trickled from his nose as he tried to avoid looking at her breasts.

Noticing what he wasn't looking at, she looked down at herself. "Oh. Give me your shirt, then truce."

* * *

Krillin was sitting on a stump with Eighteen, holding her battered form gently and trying to figure things out. The strangers had been benevolent in their victory. The redhead, Ranma, looked worse off than Vegeta but had undone the paralysis she'd inflicted on him. She was currently getting seven kinds of hell screamed at her by Chi Chi, enduring the verbal onslaught more from exhaustion than grace. The blonde, named Fate, was trying to calm the woman down with about as much success as anyone who knew Chi Chi would expect. Currently the tirade had shifted to Ranma attempting to seduce her little boy.

Krillin tuned them out, held his wife close. She hated feeling helpless even more than he did and that fight had left her shaken. The redhead had gotten a lucky hit in his barrage, not crippling but debilitating, and the weak point he'd struck had been a vulnerability she hadn't known about. Krillin let his gaze wander. Vegeta was still unconscious, but he was breathing and didn't seem in danger. Bulma knelt next to him, holding one hand between both of hers. Beyond, Piccolo was talking in low tones with the woman in white. Nanoha had left an impression during their battle.

-----------

Fate was a mother herself, she knew why Chi Chi was angry. She'd been trying for most of ten minutes to calm the older woman down, had succeeded in little more than occasionally getting the woman's rant directed at her rather than the battered Ranma. She'd managed to acquire the boy's gi top, which seemed to be part of the problem as far as Chi Chi was concerned.

Finally, she'd had it. "ENOUGH! I'm so terribly sorry that your arrogant friend's desire to fight us ruined your day." Chi Chi, surprised silent for a moment, took a deep breath to start shouting again. "We are leaving for now. We'll be back to continue our search later. We have no interest in fighting any of you again. Let us be, and we will let you be."

Ranma laughed painfully. Fate continued. "Nanoha! Let's get out of here."

She nodded, signaled the ship. The teleporter swept them up as Chi Chi started screaming again.


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: I don't own the 'verses that this pops through. I'd like to, but there's no way to get that much cash together._

- Chapter 12 -

Captain Janeway was having a long week.

The crew's stress level was far higher than normal thanks to where they were, and she'd been spending an inordinate amount of time in the last few days putting out brushfires. Normally that was Chakotay's job, but there'd been enough this week for them both. They had managed to avoid getting into a scrap with the locals so far - not something they'd been counting on given that one ship in the squadron they'd last tangled with had gotten away.

Virtually the entire ship's company, and a few of their guests, had accessed the ship's records on the Mirror Universe. According to Tom, there was a betting pool going over whose Mirror opposites they would be meeting, especially after word had gotten around about just who K'Ehleyr was. The pool was running high towards them encountering mirror B'Elanna at some point, which was generating some unhappiness, and higher towards mirror Seska. They were looking forward to running into mirror Seska; an encounter with the traitor would likely be cathartic.

Voyager's computer didn't have records of Deep Space Nine's interactions with the Mirror Universe, most of them either being classified or taking place after their own diversion into the Delta Quadrant, but their guests from that station knew a little. The two Bajorans hadn't gone out of their way for details, but knew a lot of general info - various tidbits that constituted open secrets or general knowledge on the station.

Garak knew more, how much more was the question. He wasn't volunteering much information, save that Worf was a very important man in the mirror scheme of things, and that he himself was not. He would not go into depth, claiming lack of details. Worf, presumably, would be able to shed light on things, but he wasn't talking.

Given that the Klingon had most certainly had a worse week than she, Janeway hesitated to pressure him into telling her more about the situation. She and Chakotay had gone through the brief version of his personnel jacket - they didn't have the full one on hand as he'd never been assigned to Voyager - and they were reasonably certain that he had shared any tactically useful information he had. For now, he was pitching in down in the engine room again.

Tuvok had been put back on active duty, and Vorik had been 'rescued' from the Doctor's tender care shortly thereafter by his fellow engineers. The Doctor had protested strenuously, and with good reason. Unfortunately, even though Janeway was willing to bow to his medical opinion that the two Vulcans were not quite fully recovered, she had to think of her crew's _esprit de corps_. Tuvok was a steadying influence on the bridge, little though the various crewmen would admit it, and the way half the engineering department had come together to spring Vorik indicated that they wanted him back as well. Morale among both the senior staff and the crew was fragile enough now that Janeway had, with some reluctance, convinced the Doctor to let the needs of the ship outweigh the needs of his patients. The Doctor was not amused but he understood that there were other concerns in play.

On the grounds that she would be more polite about it than the Doctor, she had made sure B'Elanna was aware of his concerns about Vorik, and was keeping a close eye on Tuvok herself. If there was a problem, they would deal with it. With a little luck (and they were due some these days) there would be no problem.

Ensconced in her ready room and fortified with strong coffee, Janeway was starting to tackle the small heap of paperwork when the intercomm chimed. "Janeway here."

It was Kim, who currently had the bridge watch. His voice was carefully neutral – not a good sign. "Captain, Mister Rimmer is on the Bridge and would like to have a word with you."

She suppressed the urge to sigh. What would the hologram want? Access to the Doctor's mobile emitter for a tangible form, perhaps? "Send him in."

"Aye, Captain." The intercomm flicked off as the door to her ready room opened.

Through the door walked Arnold J Rimmer in a Starfleet uniform. He came smartly to attention in front of her desk, gazing straight ahead at a point on the rear wall somewhere behind her, saluted in elaborate fashion. "Permission to report for duty, Sir?"

Janeway carefully schooled her features to impassivity, kept her tone neutral. "Explain yourself, Mister Rimmer."

"Of course, Sir. I would like to lend my expertise as an explorer of deep space, and traverser of hostile areas to you. As this ship is in an unusually dangerous situation, and appears to be shortstaffed, I felt it would be unfair to keep said expertise private when doing so could endanger the ship."

"So you took it upon yourself to take up a Starfleet uniform, to volunteer."

"Yes, Sir. The rank of lieutenant seems appropriate; I have been the senior officer of _Red Dwarf_ and _Star Bug_ for the last five years, and spent several years previous to that as an enlisted man doing managerial work." He shifted slightly, gaze still fixed behind her.

Janeway stood, features and tone carefully neutral, though some of her fury touched her eyes. "So you presumed to be worthy of a Starfleet commission and lieutenancy, and paraded through my ship acting like an arrogant fool. And now you come into my office and presume to dictate the needs of my ship to me?"

He shifted slightly. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"It is well known that you have promoted several other officers and brought a number of non-Starfleet personel into the chain of command. Your own first officer and chief engineer, as examples."

Janeway's voice had the bite of a frozen lash. "Neither of those cases make a good example for you. Commander Chakotay served in Starfleet for several years and left for personal reasons. Lieutenant Torres is a superlative engineer, attended the Accademy, and though she left before graduation, her engineering instructor placed a note in her file that he would endorse her return. Furthermore, neither of them presumed a position of authority on this ship; they were invited to take their current posts."

Rimmer gulped audibly. He looked like he was starting to realize what a colossal mistake he'd made. "Perhaps it was a bit presumptuous, sir, but I felt it best to show how serious I was about the value of my skills and-" Her raised hand cut him off.

"Mister Rimmer. While I don't have access to your personnel records, I have spoken at some length with Mister Lister and Kryten. I have also heard a number of complaints about you from various members of the crew you presume needs you. Your skillset is not indicative of officer material. Your conduct and manner are not indicative of officer material. Your presumption is most certainly not indicative of officer material." Her tone took on an edge of flint. "You are confined to quarters until further notice. You are going to adjust your holomatrix out of a Starfleet uniform before you go."

Rimmer's anger and embarassment burned through is fear. "This is not at all fair! I'm trying to help you and this is the thanks I get? Just because I don't have your oh-so-propper _Starfleet_ mannerisms?" He flared his nostrils. "This is just another example of the System screwing a working-class NCO for the sanctity of the officer corps. Anyone who doesn't know what fork to use or if the soup is served cold is unworthy of any honor."

"Mister Rimmer. That is _enough_!" She knew her fury at this arrogant slimeball was writ large across her features. She did not particularly care at this point. "You are not an officer. You are not going to parade around trying to look like one. Get out of that uniform you never earned and get out of my ready room."

The hologram looked pale. He gulped, thought for a moment, and the Starfleet uniform vanished, replaced by his typical red and green jumpsuit. He raised a hand as if considering a salute, seemed to think better of it, and walked to the door. Janeway's fist hit the door control before he could turn. Janeway slumped back into her chair. This was not turning out to be a good day.

-------------------------------

Ryoga stretched out in a hammock and let his mind wander.

He had found his way aboard a starship again. It wasn't ideal, but they didn't seem to be looking for stowaways, and for all it was crowded in the steerage section, the people were keeping to themselves. He'd met a friendly traveler who'd been willing to bring him food in exchange for some of the copper he was carrying – the metal itself had decent value here.

He was probably getting screwed on the price, but the one constant of his last few weeks was that if he stayed put and only tried to follow others he didn't randomly show up elsewhere. The ship was en route to a major station, and the few passengers he'd spoken to assured him he'd be able to get transit from there to Earth. He'd have to be careful following someone off the ship when they arrived, and to follow signs and such to avoid getting lost on board. For now, he was firmly planted in his hammock, trying to figure things out.

Introspection and deep thought were not Ryoga's strong points, but he was making up for it with the dogged stubbornness he used to get through most problems. He'd been on the run for too long. He needed to take a break and figure things out.

He'd been going through his memories, thinking back to his youth, every single thing he remembered that could have been one of these jumps. Those jumps were at the root of his current predicament, of that he was certain. As for what was at the root of the jumps... that he was less sure of.

Plunging the depths of his memories, he came up with several incidents from his early days that were probably jumps – mostly winding up in different parts of Tokyo when he knew he hadn't been there earlier. There were a disturbing number of them from the years before he had met Ranma. And thinking back, his parents had a tendency to randomly vanish, too.

He'd never really thought much about his habit of winding up all over the place; he'd often assumed that, like his Jusenkyo curse, it was something that had happened to him due to Ranma's interferance. And yet, if he'd been cursed before ever meeting Ranma, if his parents had suffered from a similar curse, then could it be... not Ranma's fault. A major issue in his life not being Ranma's fault was an idea that took some turning over to make fit in his mental paradgim, and he realized that he'd possibly been misjudging things of late.

He'd gotten used to just assuming that everything that went nuts near him was Ranma's fault over the years, and all the things that went south for him personally. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ranma was responsible for screwing him over a few times, and had taken advantage of him on several occasions. He also knew that, when you boiled things down, most of the chaos that floated around Nerima was Ranma's fault at root, challengers, fiances, Happosai, people hunting Happosai... if Ranma wasn't around these things would not be creating mayhem. Somehow, that assumption had grown to include his getting lost. Probably due to his Jusenkyo curse. He knew _that _was Ranma's fault, after all.

But the curse that kept him getting lost... The more he thought about it the more it looked like that had been with him far too long to be Ranma's doing. Even if he'd met Ranma before the school and just not remembered it, the fact that his parents had seemed, at least, to be dealing with the same thing... Ranma just plain wasn't old enough to have aflicted them with such a curse.

Come to that, Ranma didn't know much more about magic than he did himself. Curses fell deep in the magic catagory as far as he knew. If he ever got back he'd have to track down Gosunkugi and see if he had any useful info. Voodoo Spike might be able to come up with some kind of information, and he would hopefully be able to help. If nothing else, Ryoga could get assistance by playing off their mutual rivalry with Ranma- though Gosunkugi's rivalry was mostly in his own mind.

He wished he knew more people who could work with magic, and given that his entire past experience with magic was almost entirely negative he had _never_ thought he'd think that. Other than a brief time in possession of one of the Pheonix people's mystic sticks, he'd been on the bad end of just about every mystic item he'd ever encountered. He shuddered briefly in memory of the Locking Ladle and its effects. For all that he'd gone up that mountain with intent to stab Ranma in the back – with Mousse holding the spike as he swung the hammer – it hadn't worked out that way. Amazing how a mutual problem could bring a group together.

For all that he and Ranma were rivals, and Ranma was more or less responsible for a lot of the madness and assorted chaos that tore into his life at regular intervals, Ryoga had to admit that when it came down to it, they tended to work together to deal with said madness. They were, on some level, friends – if nothing else, each could count upon the other for a good, satisfying sparring match. And backup if everything went to hell.

Wouldn't stop him from trying to beat seven kinds of hell out of Ranma when next they met up, of course, but that too was part of the thing. Usually after a trip, they'd both have some new trick to surprise the other with. Though Ryoga had come up short on that so far, hadn't run into anyone skilled enough to be worth stealing techniques from. Probably wouldn't. Or, knowing his luck, he would, and then would immediately get lost and wind up somewhere else. Probably someplace with the level of opposition best shown in overconfident backalley thugs.

Ryoga sighed. Thinking about it, he would have to remove his curse of 'lost' from his list of 'crap in my life Ranma caused' until he got more information. He didn't exactly trust to luck as a way to get out of it though, and at this point he was not going to count on random wandering putting him on the right half of the globe should he just try and get lost again. He mentally cursed himself for panicking back in Chicago. Even a crazy bounty huntress was unlikely to try to shoot and/or blow him up right outside a police station. Right world and right time-frame, just the wrong continent.

Putting things together over the last few hours, he'd realized two general things: if he was following somebody else, he tended to stay following that person, not jump to Kamis-knew-where. And second, he was a lot less likely to just vanish if he paid strict attention to where he was going. Signs helped, so that was possibly a subset of the other rule – following signs. There were so many things that could distract him, though... Despair washed over him. It was so hopeless. Right now he was doomed to die alone, unloved, and far, far from Earth.

A spike of fury cut through his depression. Damn whoever wished this curse upon his family! Ryoga Hibiki was no weakling, he would not just roll over and die for the amusement of whatever trickster god did this to he and his. His fist thumped into the bulkhead above him, denting the alloy slightly. He was a martial artist. Mark that, he was a martial arts _master_, with skill in the ancient arts of ki manipulation. There was a way to beat this; he would just have to figure out what that way was.

He shifted in his hammock, sitting crosslegged, tuned out the sounds of ship and people, and began to meditate. Find the center. Find the center and from there find the path. When he was happy he could focus – no, when he was happy he could focus on what he was happy about, not on where he was and what he was doing.

Calm. He needed calm to make this work. Calm was not something he did well, he was a man of action, of reaction. Martial arts were his strength – draw from that strength to find a solution. Calm.

Ranma had a trick for calm- his Soul of Ice technique. Ryoga had seen him use it, knew some of the basics, helped Ranma learn it. He would put his mastery into practice, try to recreate it for his own use. Stealing techniques was not just a Saotome trait.

-----------------------------------

Ranma normally ordered his thoughts by losing himself in kata, but he was under doctor's orders to 'take it easy' for a couple days, with a definition of 'take it easy' that forbade him to do anything more strenuous than walking to the ship's mess or the head. He figured he'd co-operate with that for at least one day, and see how much it hurt to move tomorrow. It had been a while since he'd last broken a leg, and while he'd been a little surprised they didn't have magical instant-heal stuff for that kind of thing, he was delighted at how light the cast/knee brace they'd slapped on was. They'd put a sort of magic bandage on his ribs – three broken, five others bruised -that could grow or shrink to stay properly tight even if he switched genders. It wasn't perfect but it helped a fair bit.

The total damages were impressive – broken leg and ribs, knuckles on both hands torn, dozens of bone bruises on his arms from parrying Gohan's attacks, both hands burned from where his ki blast had hit. It would be interesting to see how this worked out. He healed fairly fast already; he was looking forward to seeing how this stuff affected that. For now he sat and tried to lose himself in meditation. From what he'd been told in the sickbay, they'd be along soonish to 'debrief' him about the fight. He wondered what kind of questions they'd be asking.

He took another breath – not too deep, but not so shallow as to admit to pain, and let it out slowly. It had been a hell of a fight. He wished he could have met those guys in happier circumstances – i.e. not when their pigheadedness and the magical girls militarism slammed head on – and train with them a bit. Their fighting style seemed to emphasize raw power to the exclusion of all else and they had poor ki control. Their ki flared around them in a way that was visually impressive, but horribly inefficient. But what raw power! Kamis, what Ranma could do with even a tenth the power Gohan had would be impressive as all hell. If nothing else, he'd love to learn what their little flying trick was – flight would be a fun skill to have.

_It's a good thing_, Ranma reflected, _that I'm used to fighting guys with more raw power than me_. Herb, Saffron, Happi, Taro, even Ryoga had a slight edge in power. Knowing deep down that he could overcome a power advantage was probably what kept him from completely paralyzing himself in fear when the little guy – Krillin, if he remembered the names right – had come at him.

Eventually they sent someone to come get him. The doc spoke aloud for the first time Ranma could remember and offered the use of a floatchair. Ranma had demurred.

Less than halfway there now, he was wishing he hadn't, but it was too late to back down now. He'd made his boast and now he would live with it. Painfully. He knew he was a lot more pale than normal by the time they made it to the meeting room, but he kept his features carefully neutral. He was a martial artist, and it was only pain. He'd survive.

The Captain, Nanoha, Fate, and half a dozen other officer types were in the conference room, as were two projections, one of a male in the blue of a TSAB navy type, the other a woman in a brown uniform. The two magical girls had been patched up already – their own injuries were nothing to be sneezed at, but not a patch on his own – and had clearly finished their debriefs. The Captain, Stevens, turned to him and said, "Thank you for joining us, Mister Saotome. We'd like to ask you a few questions about the groundside engagement, and some technical questions."

"No problem." He took a seat, closing his eyes for a moment in relief. "What do ya wanna know?"

They started by getting him to run through the fight from his perspective, which he did, including that they probably could have avoided it by telling the angry powerful man what they were doing there rather than claiming need for secrecy. They ferreted out a few details through some good questions, details he wouldn't have thought worth sharing. Then they got to the technical questions.

"Were our instuments misreading their power? They seemed vastly superior to you and yet you did rather well."

Ranma shrugged. "I have a lot of skill to back up my power. They didn't, not really, they were mostly brawlers. With the amount of power they were throwing around, they probably wouldn't need to be more than brawlers."

Nanoha and Fate nodded agreement, some significant glances went around the room. That annoying silent communication thing they did again. Ranma made a mental note to ask one of the magical girls about that – how it worked and if it was a trick he could learn. "So," began the male in the floating communication screen thingy, "They mostly depend on brute-forcing anything they run into, and you finessed your way around it?"

"More or less. At least with the first two. The last one, Gohan, was putting out way more power than the others, two or three times as much even after my Hiryū Shōten Ha hit him. That was too much power advantage for me to overcome. Plus, they could all fly." He shrugged. "If Gohan had been thinking straight he'd have stayed airborne and kept blasting until he got lucky."

"Ascending Dragon Fist – that would be the tornado, yes?"

"Yeah. And that one was way more powerful than they usually get. The technique funnels ambient hot ki, spillover from other ki attacks I guess would be the best description, into a vortex. Those guys' ki was really hot because their blood was up." He shrugged. "It kept pulling at their ki and getting bigger until it overloaded."

Nanoha looked thoughtful. "Sort of a martial arts version of Starlight Breaker." More nods went around the room. Ranma made a mental note to not find out what a Starlight Breaker was the hard way. Given how much more bang she could kick out on her own, he'd prefer to avoing being on the wrong end of her version of a Hiryū Shōten Ha.

Their was a short moment of silent conversation, then Stevens rapped the table with his knuckles once, drawing attention. "Clearly, we need to learn more about how Ki works. It's a very interesting power source." Nods answered. He turned to Ranma. "Would you be willing to show us some more of what you can do once you've recovered?"

"Not a problem."

"We may want to consult some other experts, people used to teaching. I can see a fair bit of potential in this."

"Erm, possibly not." Several heads swiveled towards Ranma. "Uh, thing is not just anyone can generate enough ki to really use it." He paused trying to frame his thoughts into words that would translate well. "There's also... there's... flavors is the wrong term, but I can't think of a better match; flavors of a person's... soul, I guess, that indicate if they can really channel ki. Everyone generates at least a little, but not everyone generates the right... flavor." He took a deep breath, prepared to say something that was going to annoy a lot of people. "I know what to look for in someone's ki, and, well, nobody in this room has it. I don't think it's always separate from magic by nature, but it _is_ different." He shrugged at the ring of sour looks. "I'm not an expert, and most of my knowledge is practical, but, well, there it is."

The guy on the comm screen spoke. "Do you know of anyone on your world who could teach us more?"

Ranma shrugged. "A couple, I guess." He thought for a moment, decided he was not about to inflict Happosai or his father on these people, continued. "The only decent teacher I can think of off hand is Cologne. She's an old Chinese Amazon who lives at the Neko Han Ten in Nerima, an' she's a genius about stuff like this. She taught me the Hiryū Shōten Ha in the first place. Not sure if she'd agree to help you herself, but she might know someone who would."

"Thank you. I'll have to look into that."

----------------------------------

Makoto, moreso than the other senshi, lived between worlds. Student and magical girl were worlds she shared with her friends. Martial Arts she did not. For all Rei had studied Karate, she hadn't tried to delve into the martial arts world; it had been a hobby for her. Makoto was not deep into that world, but she did have contacts there, and thus knew more about Nerima and its strangeness than her fellow Senshi. She'd shied away from the world of Martial Arts because of the monomania and madness she saw in so many of its high-end practitioners, and, wanting to keep her life as sane and normal as possible, she'd avoided getting too deep into the world of Martial Arts only fall headling into the world of magic.

The irony of the situation was not lost upon the senshi.

Still, she knew one thing: if you wanted information about anything that happened in Nerima, the best person to talk to was Nabiki Tendo. It took money, probably more than she could spare – Nabiki had well earned her nickname of 'the Mercenary' - but it was worth a shot.

They met in a cafe. Nabiki was there when Makoto arrived, sipping at a drink. "Makoto, it's been a while."

Makoto dredged through her memories for the last time she'd spoken to Nabiki. "A couple years, that I can think of. Mixed martial arts tournament, yes?"

The older girl nodded. "I made a decent bit of cash from you there."

Makoto frowned. "I seem to recall losing in that tournament."

"And the betting favoured you heavily." Nabiki smiled. "Anyway. You didn't call me up to talk about the old days. What's up?"

"I heard that a couple Magical Girls showed up down here a few nights ago. Wondered if you knew anything about 'em."

Nabiki smiled. "What kind of question is that?"

Makoto shrugged. "The leading kind."

The smile widened. "Come now. You know I don't give out information for free."

Makoto growled, "I'm not about to hand over money just to find out I already know everything you have for sale on them."

Nabiki raised a hand, gestured for restraint. "Hey, sorry. I don't want to feel the _crash _of your _thunderous _temper. Just being my usual, buisnesswoman self."

Makoto opened her mouth to reply, then saw the odd glint in Nabiki's eyes, and replayed the last two sentences in her mind. Crash of her thunderous- was she implying.. She tried to school her features, to keep any surprise or suspicion off her face. "What?"

Nabiki's grin widened a fraction. "No need for shock. Anyway. You want information about Magical Girls? I'm curious as to why, you probably know more than I do about that subject." A pause. "Living in Juuban, and all."

Makoto was silent for a long moment, as she resolved to try and recover her ballance, schooling her features to impassivity. "Come on, Nabiki. You are _the_ information dealer in this end of town. Of course you're going to have info about them. All I know is that they exist."

The grin was back. "Fair enough. They've taken out at least one Youma, and they're reasonably powerful."

"I knew that much from what made the 'net. Do you have anything else?"

"Ten-thousand yen."

Matoto blinked. "You're kidding."

"Nope." That damnable smile was in full force.

"You are really trying to earn your 'mercenary' nickname, aren't you?"

"Mercenary is such an ugly word. Accurate though."

"No discount for old time sake? If I made you so much money?"

Nabiki considered it for a moment and shook her head. "Bad buisness to let sentiment get in the way."

Makoto choked off a snarled reply. This was clearly not going anywhere. "Fair enough." She stood. "I guess I'll be going. I won't say it was nice to see you again."

"Refreshingly honest," said Nabiki to her retreating back.

---------------

Nabiki Tendo took her time finishing her drink. She so loved it when a hypothesis was confirmed. The somewhat inexplicable inability for anyone to match pictures of the Senshi to pictures of regular people had piqued her interest – she'd taken it as a challenge. She'd had no luck with the faces, but she'd noticed something familiar about how Sailor Jupiter moved reviewing some footage a few months ago. Always a stickler for details, and having spent more than a year trying to figure things out, she'd shortly thereafter managed to figure out who the Senshi reminded her of.

There was an old martial arts aphorism: know a man's walk and know the man. She'd seen someone who moved like Jupiter before. Being an immense packrat when it came to data, she dove into her archives of tournament footage looking for female fighters who matched the same general physical type as Jupiter – her unusual height helped with this – and narrowed the possibilities down to about a dozen candidates. Further study had narrowed it down to most likely being Makoto Kino.

That some kind of spell was at work was beyond doubt – even running footage of both Makoto and Jupiter fighting side by side, when Nabiki was not paying attention the similarities seemed to fade. Nabiki didn't know much about magic, and had sought some assistance from a few Nerima residents, primarily Gosunkugi and Cologne. The Voodoo practitioner had little information of use, though ferreting that information out of him had been laughably easy – all she'd had to do was take a deep breath, or bounce slightly on her heels to distract him from such trivialities as wanting payment or thinking about how dangerous the information he was handing over could be.

Cologne had been another story. The wily Chinese Amazon matriarch had first refused outright to tell her anything, but had later demurred, should Nabiki be willing to meet her terms. Assuming those terms would be something to do with getting Ranma set up with Shampoo, Nabiki had asked for more information – she felt that Shampoo herself could be counted upon to scuttle any matchmaking attempts. The girl did not seem to realize that her aggressive style of courtship frankly scared Ranma, loath though he would be to ever admit that fear.

Instead, Cologne had stated her terms as thus: in exchange for a great deal of information about magic, Cologne would be owed a favour, terms unspecified until called in, that would have to be fulfilled to the letter. Nabiki still wasn't sure what had scared her off, as her confidence in her own ability to lawyer was never low. She couldn't say if it was the Amazon's slight smile, or her tone, or something about the way she'd looked at Nabiki as she stated them. She hadn't been willing to risk it, and she was reasonably confident that this had been the best choice. Putting herself at the mercy of a multi-century old Amazon schemer had poor long term prospects these days. Trying to reneg on a deal with them would probably be insanely dangerous. She'd found herself being gunned for by Shampoo before; even with Ranma protecting her it hadn't been pleasant. Having many Amazons gunning for her would likely be far less survivable. She was, she thought with a quirk of a smile, getting cautious in her old age.

So she'd refined her guess, reviewed the other candidates, and had been trying to think of a decent pretense to see Makoto. The call she'd gotten today had been fortuitous. Makoto's reaction to her fishing had been fine confirmation – she'd been unsure going in if Makoto was Jupiter, or if she simply knew the senshi, perhaps having trained together.

Knowing who one of the Senshi was made determining the identities of the others a simple exercise in logic, something she could extrapolate by looking thru Makoto's circle of friends and acquaintances. There'd be more to it than that, of course, some detective work, and the distraction/disguise spell to get around. But Nabiki was confident she'd be able to figure things out. Once she had, it would be time to line up a buyer.


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: This is but a fan work, a cracky tribute to entertainers with far greater scope and budget than I. I claim no ownership; nor any rights over the characters displayed within these pages. _

-Chapter 13 -

Gohan looked up from his books as a ki-sense he'd been looking for popped on-planet. Damnable timing, he was supposed to be studying for the next few hours. Even if he could crib his father's instant transmission technique, his mother was checking on him every few minutes. It was unlikely he could pop over to Ranma's location without catching several kinds of mother-generated hell when he got back.

One of the pillars of Saiyan and Namekian fighting styles was that power, speed, and strength were the ultimate trump cards. And while that had, in the end, been more or less proven out... the fact that the martial artist had been able to challenge him at all suggested there was more to it than that. He'd used a neat little trick on Krillin, and gotten a very, very lucky hit on Eighteen – joggling a power coupling loose, according to Bulma – but he'd gone toe to toe with Gohan and had given an impressive account of himself. Possibly could have won if Gohan hadn't recognized the spiral pattern he seemed to need to set up his ki-leaching tornado.

Sure – if Vegeta had bothered to power up before attacking, or if he and Piccolo hadn't gotten into a bit of a pissing contest durring the fight, they'd have won it with ease, but even so, what the youth could do was amazing. Gohan wanted to learn from him. Fighting wasn't the be-all, end-all of his life the way it was for the others, but it was important to him. It was something that helped him connect with his dad whenever he got back from the dead again and his little brother, and it let him do what he thought was most important: protecting others.

A more efficient way to do that would be useful – just as he had massively outpowered Ranma, there was potential for someone showing up who massively outpowered himself or his father. A way to overcome something like that without the escalating property and geography damage the traditional Saiyan style would cause could be very useful.

Unfortunately, after the fight his mother was insistant on him studying as much as possible in the few days he had before school started up. She'd spent most of the first day reading over his shoulder as he studied, making sure he stayed on task. Today at least he'd had a bit more privacy – well, Goten had spent a while chatting with him as he went over his histories, but the youth was outside tearing around with Trunks right now.

Chi Chi's voice sounded from outside of his room. "How's the studying going, son?"

"It's going fine, Mom."

"Good. Dinner will be in another hour."

He smiled at the thought. "Thanks, Mom!"

He heard his mother walk down the hall. No, he wasn't going to get a chance to head off and meet Ranma any time soon. This was... disappointing. Still. He had responsibilities to his mother; expectations to uphold. He would be the good son.

He kept track of things as he studdied. Nobody else seemed to react to the stranger's arrival, which was probably a good sign. He went over chemistry over the hour, washed up, brought one of his history texts to the table. Mother would expect him to keep studying, and history was easy to go through, not quite as rough to memorize as complex formulae.

Halfway through dinner, he felt Ranma and his friends vanish, presumably to get back to their search. He'd half hoped they would stay groundside long enough for him to slip out after bedtime, but it looked like that wasn't going to happen. He gave a mental shrug. He would find another way to meet up with the martial artist. Figuring out a way would be an interesting intellectual exercise.

-------------------------------

The Soul of Ice gave one a strange sense of detachment.

Surrounded by thousands of strangers, Ryoga moved with the flow of the great crowd on the station, following its ebb and currents like a living river. The cacophony of dozens of languages flowed around him as he walked, one eye always on a sign. He'd absorbed the words and directions from the customs man without really thinking about them. He'd hit a bathroom, then head for Dock Thirteen; there was a ship there heading for Earth in a couple hours. Assuming he was reading the map right; and that the customs guy he asked hadn't been lying to him; he'd be able to make it there in easy time.

The ship was a tramp freighter. Such ships would, according to the customs man, usually offer a chance for poor passengers to work for their fare. He hoped they'd take his money. If not, well, work wouldn't kill him. It would keep him busy, too, a not insubstantial concern. Meditation could only keep him from getting bored for so long before it stopped working. When he was bored, keeping track of things was harder. Which generally meant, if he was properly interpreting his memories at least, that he would get lost.

He put that thought out of his mind. The entire point of this latest exercise – recreating the Soul of Ice – was to avoid suffering from his curse. So that _he_ could control _it_, not the other way around. He paused a moment, creating an eddy in the living current, gathered his thoughts and found his center again. He got moving again, watching the signs and the people. Idly he noted the many strange variations on outfits and even people. Folk with mechanical bits were scattered throughout the crowd – cyborgs, some distant corner of his mind supplied.

He let the current of the crowd move him along, watching signs and people with care but not intensity. A small corner of his mind was muttering about how odd this was, but for the most part he just flowed and absorbed information – a word here and there, signs, symbols whose meaning he could see in context. There was a great deal here to distract him. He acknowledged it and moved on, refusing to allow it to do so. Preventing the curse from controlling him was the first step. Then would come the greater challenge, to control the curse itself. Ryoga was reasonably certain that, with care and practice, he'd manage the first part. The second, not so much. He'd need to find someone who knew magic to get enough information to do it. That was doable, especially if the fates took pity on him and guided him back to Nerima.

Till then, he'd be as careful as he could and make his way back to Earth. He'd find a way to take care of things. A smile quirked his mouth. If nothing else he could outstubborn it. He was good at outstubborning things.

Watching the signs, he ducked into a men's room – some symbols were, it seemed, universal – and dealt with that need. Once he finished, he walked out of the washroom, took a deep breath and exhaled, easing back into the Soul of Ice. He then started walking through the crowd again, glancing around to make sure he knew where the signs were and where they lead, and managed to walk into something soft.

Glancing, he saw a redhead in a tight, revealing silver costume before him. He blushed crimson, started stammering apologies by instinct. She raised a hand. "Don't worry about it, cutie. I should have been paying more attention to where I was going." She looked him over and leered. "Though I might have run into _you _anyway."

"Uh, ok." For a moment he tried to figure out what to say or do. "Uh, I'm Ryoga."

She smiled a dazzling bright smile. "Kei. Nice to meet you, Ryoga." She cocked her head to one side for a moment, as though listening to someone, muttered, "Gimmie a sec, Yuri, I'm getting into position." She looked back to Ryoga. "Hey cutie. I've got something to take care of, but if you stick around I'd love to chat more." She sauntered past, patting his ass as she went.

Ryoga shuddered, trying to regain his center and the Soul of Ice. He wasn't having much luck when the unmistakable crack of gunfire started off. He tried to move out of the line of fire, the small bit of the Soul of Ice he'd managed to gain helping him focus.

Then something exploded behind him. Survival instincts took over and he ran. A bullet _spang_ed off of the wall beside him as he dove around the next corner, and pressed himself against a wall. He needed to calm himself, get away from the gunfight, and keep from losing it. Control the curse. Not the curse controlling him. He started edging down the corridor when an object that bore a striking resemblance to a grenade bounced around the corner. _Typical_, he thought, and turned to bolt down the corridor. It exploded with a mighty burst of concussive force, lifting him and throwing him into a wall.

It took him a long moment to pick himself back up, a moment longer for the world to stop swirling in his vision. Gunfire and explosions continued to sound in the general vicinity. He'd go somewhere else to find his peace, quiet and general opportunity to get this curse under control. For now, staying in an air-filled tin can while bullets and bombs were flying had definite health problems. People shooting off guns in space. This could not end well. Dropping the soul of ice, he picked a direction and started running.

--------------

The countryside here was heavily forested, the road hardpacked earth, cutting straight and level through it. Ryoga smiled. It had taken a bit of time, and he'd been winged by a bullet – leaving an unpleasant but not terribly serious flesh wound on his shoulder, but he had, at least, found a pleasant enough looking stretch of land to get lost in. Looking around, he decided his best bet would be to follow the road; find a town. He'd work this out somehow.

Adjusting the pack on his back, drawing on the calming of his Soul of Ice, he began walking. A memory chanced of a similar forested road, walked a few years ago for a time in the company of a strange but kindly little old man. He couldn't recall the fellow's name, but he remembered the song he'd sung.

In a voice that was strong but unused to carrying a tune, Ryoga began;

_"The road goes ever on and on;_

_Down from the door where it began._

_Now far ahead, the road has gone;_

_And I must follow if I can..."_

-----------------------------------

Ranma and the ship's doc had been pleasantly surprised by how fast he was healing. Most of the bruises were fading and only one of the split knuckles was looking like it was going to scar, the rest healing cleanly. His bones were knitting fast – the magic combined with his own tendency to heal quickly giving quick results. He could take a deep breath without wincing again, though the leg still ached if he walked on it too much and his ribs would start to hurt with much exercise.

But he felt worlds better today than he did just a few days before. This magical healing stuff was great. He figured he'd be able to get back to proper exercise and kata again tomorrow. The doc still wanted him off the leg all the time. That wasn't going to happen. Ranma had too much energy and drive to just sit around when he was physically capable of doing otherwise.

He'd spent a bit of time with some free weights in the gym, and was enjoying a good meal in the mess now. The food was decent and filling. The company, mostly offduty crewers with a couple of the Marines, was pleasant. He'd been listening to the slightly rambling conversation with half an ear, chiming in when he figured it was appropriate. The whole group was having fun with it, and Ranma was soaking up information like a black-haired sponge. Theoretically, learning more about magic would help him deal with it.

It helped his ego no small amount that several of the marines, having heard about what he'd pulled off planetside, wanted to go for some sparring as soon as he was declared healthy. He couldn't think of a better incentive to heal up – these guys used an interesting fighting style from the bit he'd watched in the gym, and he was always interested in checking out different styles. There was always something to learn.

After watching what Nanoha and Fate could do, he didn't want to go into a spar with either of them until he was sure he was in top form. They were skilled, fast, and powerful – a dangerous combination. His own combination. At least in a spar down in the ship's gym, their ability to fly wouldn't be an advantage.

That reminded him – at some point he needed to sit down and just... figure out a way to flat out fly. Herb and Saffron could do it, and while Saffron had wings, they couldn't have been big enough to support him in the air. He had felt the ki flowing off both of them while they did it; there had to be a way to fly under his own power using ki. He'd need to try something next chance he had – start by adapting the techniques he used to boost his jumps, probably; work out a way to stay up from there. Something to meditate on while he healed.

For a long moment he wished he was back in Nerima. The food was good, but Ukyo, Shampoo, or Kasumi could beat it without even trying hard. The company was nice, but they weren't his usual friends, and he missed spending time with the folks back home. Still, he'd given his word to help these people, and the word of a martial artist was his bond.

Especially when there was a cure on the line.

-----------------------------------

Akane Tendo missed Ranma.

He'd been gone a couple weeks now on his trip/mission to track down Ryoga. Without him around, she'd been... uneasy. She was loath to admit it, but she half-depended on his presence and sarcastic wit to get through the day. Ever since Saffron... She shuddered at the memory of that fight. She had never in her life been so terrified. Now, with Ranma not around, she was having trouble concentrating on things, jumping at every unexpected noise. There had been a moment of frightening clarity during that fight: for all they disagreed, Ranma would sooner die than see her come to harm. He had thrown everything he had into that fight, thrown away a shot at a cure, and saved her life. She still wasn't sure if she was angry or relieved at the way their wedding had literally blown up around them; certainly she'd been willing to put another one off for a while as they picked up the pieces. They'd wait for things to calm down if nothing else.

And now he was off, galivanting around the cosmos with a bunch of strange mages, leaving her alone with her memories and her fears.

Damn her temper! She wished, for perhaps the hundredth time, that she'd kept herself calm – be honest, kept from panicking - when she saw the two strangers take to the air. If she had, she could have tried to come along. Perhaps she was not linked to Ryoga the way Ranma was, but she _was_ his friend. She was a martial artist too; with the responsibility to help others that implied.

She'd been spending a lot more time than normal at home. Here in the Dojo, she felt safe. She could relax. The sounds of her family and its daily life were a comfort, drowning out the outside world. She wasn't afraid here. Still. She wished Ranma would get home.

She was doing her homework in the main room, listening to Kasumi putter in the kitchen. It was... comforting. Father and Genma were off somewhere, probably getting drunk, and Nabiki was upstairs, concentrating on some kind of research project. She'd been getting increasingly irritated with it over the last few days, which Akane figured meant that despite her gung-ho start, she wasn't getting anywhere with it. Given what Nabiki's projects usually did to the family funds, that was probably for the best.

Akane wished that Ranma was back. Off chasing Ryoga- so the odds of Ryoga dropping in were probably slim. Ryoga had also gone into the fight with Saffron to save her, risking it all. It was a noble gesture from the lost boy. He'd put his life on the line for her too, and she'd not properly shown him gratitude. Truth be told she probably trusted Ryoga more than Ranma; the lost boy respected her dignity and decency in ways the aquatransexual didn't.

Kamis, even P-chan hadn't been around lately. She'd have given a lot to have the little black pig around for comfort, a loyal and cute pet to have at her side at night.

Nabiki stomped down the stairs, snarling. "No luck, Nabiki?"

"You would not believe it. I've got the juiciest secret in all of Tokyo and nobody wants to buy it."

"What kind of secret?"

"I know who four of the Senshi are, and I have a strong guess on a fifth."

Akane did a double take. In the kitchen, Kasumi looked up from the pot she was stirring. "Oh, my."

The youngest Tendo sister goggled at Nabiki. "What do you mean you know who they are? Nobody can recognize them."

Nabiki gave her younger sister an arrogant look. "Superior intelligence and detective work. I _know_ who they are, but nobody's willing to buy."

"They probably don't believe you have the right identities, sis. Nobody's been able to figure it out before."

Nabiki rooted through the fridge for a drink. "Unlike certain disrespectful sisters, the newsies know better than to doubt me." She retrieved a drink, then continued in a disgusted tone. "There's some stupid Imperial order forbidding anyone from publishing the names of the Senshi."

"What?"

"Supposedly it's a 'national security' thing. The Senshi protect Japan so Japan protects them. They want to keep their identities secret, so the Emperor wants to help that." She gave a disgusted sigh. "All that work for nothing."

Akane gave her sister her best 'innocent' look. "Didn't you say you were just looking into it for the challenge, not for profit, when Daddy asked?"

"Akane, I do everything for profit, you know that."

"You're usually less sensitive about it. What's up?"

Nabiki went silent and leaned against the wall, expression dour. Akane mentally shrugged – if her sister didn't want to talk about it she wasn't going to force the issue – and tried to concentrate on her homework. When Nabiki was like this, the only way to get information out of her was money, and Akane didn't much feel like going there just now. When she wanted to talk, she'd talk. For now, dinner was coming soon and Kasumi's cooking would cheer everyone up.

-----------------------------------

"You wanted to see me?" Ranma asked as he walked into the supply compartment.

Nanoha smiled. "You mentioned earlier that you'd like a communicator." She picked up a pendant on a long, thin chain, tossed it to him underhand.

Ranma looked at the pendant warily. An egg-shaped green gemstone about half the size of his thumb hung from a simple setting on a silver chain. It weighed a bit more than he would have guessed, as though it were some kind of metal. "This is one of your communicators?"

The brunette shrugged. "More or less. It's a focusing device, really, but it can handle communication and translation. Useful if we get separated on the ground in the future."

Ranma glanced from the oblong gemstone, to Nanoha. "How does it work?"

"Well, the communication normally doesn't need a device; anyone with magical potential can usually at least recieve. This will help get around your lack of magical potential. Put it on and clear your mind."

Ranma hesitated a moment, shrugged. He'd trusted them this far, after all. There was an odd tingle as it settled against his shirt at the end of the chain.

_Can you hear me?_

Eyes widening, suppressing the urge to curse, he stared openmouthed at the mage, who smiled at his expression. "That's just weird. How does it work?"

Nanoha's smile widened. _Concentrate on me and think the words you would say._

Ranma took a deep breath, let it out slowly. He calmed himself with the Soul of Ice. Thought of Nanoha. _Uh, testing one two three?_

_Excellent. That came through just fine._

Ranma blinked. "That just felt _weird_."

_It does take some getting used to._ The mental voice was Fate's.

Eyes wide, Ranma glanced around the room, trying to spot her. As far as he knew, she was up on the bridge helping with the tracking. "What the?"

Nanoha's smile widened. _Quite the useful skill, don't you think?_

Ranma calmed himself for a moment, concentrated, tried to picture them both. _Very useful. Hopefully this will help if we get into another scrap._

_Being able to co-ordinate is always useful,_ came the non-present blonde's reply. Nanoha nodded; clearly Ranma had managed to... transmit? Talk? Send? To them both.

"Huh. So this does translation and communication. How does the translation part work?"

Nanoha took a moment to frame a response before speaking. "It's... complicated. It involves some low-level telepathy and scanning of the listener and speaker's language centers, then translates on the fly." She shrugged. "It's not always totally accurate, but that's the gist of it."

"So that's why it sounds like everyone on the ship is speaking Japanese to me?" He gave the pendant a long look. That kind of thing would have to be massively complicated. "That's wild. What else can it do?"

"Well, we've got it set to record information if you get in any kind of fight, to see what we can learn about ki and how it interacts with things."

Ranma weighed those words for a moment, decided that would be harmless enough. "Makes sense. This is cool, but it's gonna take some getting used to. Thanks!" he sent a mental thanks to Fate as well. Magic stuff wasn't near so unnerving when you got to know it.

----------------------------------

"This isn't supposed to be happening," said Chibi-Usa.

Usagi looked up from the homework she'd been half-heartedly working on, killing time until she could head off and see Mamoru for a while. Her daughter from the future had been introspective and thoughtful for most of the last few days, a huge contrast to her usual bubbly self. Now she was clutching a pillow tightly, her expression... lost. "What isn't supposed to be happening?"

"These strangers. They weren't in the histories an' stuff when I was growing up."

Usagi put down her book. "How's that possible? You're from our future, you should know about this, you and Setsuna."

"It's not there. I wasn't sure at first so I din' say anything, but I'm sure now, I don't remember anything about this."

Usagi was concerned now. Her grasp of the intricacies of time travel was limited at best, but this sounded bad. "Has something changed the future?" Usa nodded. "These strangers?"

"Dunno. I just... I don't know."

"Is this gonna do something bad?" An sudden thought tinged her next words with fear. "Are you gonna disappear or something?"

The pink haired child burried her head in the pillow and began to sob. "I don't know. I'm scared."

Usagi crossed the room in a flash, hugged Usa tight. "Hey. Don't you worry, we've got the Senshi of Time herself on our side here. We won't let anything bad happen to you."

Usagi held the child tight as she cried herself out, murmuring quietly. Forget spending time with Mamoru, this was more important. After a time, Usa seemed to fall asleep. Usagi lay her down gently, dug out her communicator.

Setsuna picked up on the third ring. "Usagi? What's going on?"

Quietly, the Senshi replied, "I need to ask you something. Usa's scared of something, something that she says isn't supposed to be happening."

The slight tang of irritation vanished from Setsuna's tone. "Those strangers? I'd wondered."

"Have you been able to learn anything?"

"No." Her tone grew concerned. "I can't get anything from the Time Gates; the future is too much in flux to see."

Usagi chewed her lip for a moment. "What does that mean? Is it changing so much that Usa's going to..." her throat closed around the rest of that statement.

There was a long moment before Setsuna answered. "Unless something unrecoverable happens to you or Mamoru, Usa should be fine. But.. I can't guarantee anything, not without the Gates. Just be careful, and things should work out."

"I'll be as careful as I can." Usagi took a moment to brace herself before continuing. "What happens to her if the future does change?"

There was a long, thoughtful silence before the Senshi of Time replied. "I don't know. There are just too many factors." Then, bitterly, "I hadn't realized just how dependent I am on the Gates."

Usagi winced. That wasn't the reassuring answer she'd been hoping for. "Is there anything we can do to help with them?"

"I... Don't think so. But thank you. Give Usa a hug for me when she wakes up."

"I will. Good luck."

----------------------------------

Even to Ranma's untrained eye, the station before them looked to be in dire shape. It was surrounded by a mist of vented air and moisture; flash-frozen into countless icy diamonds suspended in the microgravity. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like the station was listing to port. "What happened to this place?"

Captain Stevens was frowning at his console. "According to their distress calls, there was a shootout aboard between some government agents and local criminals." He shook his head. "From what they're saying, it sounds like this government team usually does damage like this on operations."

Fate and Nanoha exchanged glances, as though considering what their superiors would do to them if they made a habit of causing this level of damage on an arrest. Their conclusion was not, it seemed, a happy one. "What's the plan?"

Stevens looked up to the main image of the station. "We go alongside and offer aid. They're reporting massive casualties and damage, and the station's orbit appears to be decaying. Your mission will have to wait a day or two."

"No argument from me," began Nanoha, "And I'll back your decision should the Admiralty question it."

"The Admiralty will understand," said Stevens. "A civilian station in this level of distress? That takes priority."

His second in command, whose name Ranma couldn't recall, piped up. "The Pigeons and Pongoes might feel otherwise though. If you could talk to them we'd appreciate it." He muttered something under his breath; Ranma didn't catch exactly what.

Nanoha and Fate exchanged smiles. "I think we can manage that. Let's help these people."

_'Pigeons and pongoes?' _thought Ranma to Fate as they walked for the teleporters.

_Space Rat slang for Air and Ground Forces, respectively._

In context, Ranma had a fairly strong guess about what 'Space Rat' meant. _I thought you and Nanoha were Air Forces mages?_

_We are. But we'll let them live this time. They have a point about HQ._

_But... why would your bosses object to helping people?_

Ranma could almost hear the shrug in her reply. _Because they told us to make tracking down Ryoga Hibiki our top priority. They probably won't raise too much of a stink about it, but if they do we'll deal with it. Interservice politics, nothing major._

------------

Ranma tried to ignore the pain in his leg as he helped clear rubble. This section of the station was a twisted ruin, but a twisted ruin with gravity, air, and a couple dozen trapped civilians. He couldn't do much for the injured, but he could help get to them. Whoever this 'dirty pair' was, they were an honourless menace. They'd thoroughly trashed the place and just up and left after. If he ever ran into them, Ranma would be waiving his 'not going all-out against women' policy. Like Shampoo, their actions had moved them out of its protection, though at least Shampoo still had some sense of honour.

As best he could tell, none of the damage here was Ryoga's doing. The Breaking Point was distinctive in terms of what it left behind and he wasn't seeing that here. He hoped like hell the lost boy had made it out in one piece. At some point he'd have to ask if they'd tracked his exit point yet. Bracing himself against a mostly-intact bulkhead, he pulled a big section of girder out of the pile. His still somewhat rudimentary ki-sense was helping immensely in finding survivors- apparently all the loose metal and electrical stuff was playing hash with most of the S&R guys' scanners. There were a couple kids about a dozen feet back in this mess.

"You kids still with me?"

"Yes, mister." The kid was sounding a little more hopeful than he had – he and his little sister were stuck under a collapsed beam that had blocked most of the falling debris, a little pocket in the pile of metal. They'd cried themselves hoarse by the time Ranma started digging them out, but the boy was sounding a little better now. The cavalry had arrived, so to speak.

Ranma grabbed another chunk of metal. "Okay. I'm getting closer guys, stay with me." He pulled, the debris scraped against other metal, got hung up on something for a moment, then came loose. Putting it aside he moved to the next bit, started clearing out light stuff. It was a big, heavy jigsaw puzzle in a way, but with bigger odds. He needed to get this stuff cleared out enough to get the kids out, without yanking on the wrong piece. He was painfully aware that this could end very badly if he screwed up. He'd just have to not screw up; something he could likely handle.

It took him a while, and the kid's little sister started crying again, but Ranma eventually cleared a path in to the kids. He gave them directions to where the _Pauline_'s crew and the local S&R were checking people over, then took a deep breath and pushed his ki senses outward. There didn't seem to be anyone else stuck in this pile. Good. He turned and followed the kids. The others would hopefully know where he was needed next.

-----------

The station was still a shambles, but it was back in a stable orbit and no longer leaking air. _Pauline_ had been aided by a few other ships, working in concert to stabilize the station. It had been a long couple days, but the mood on the _Pauline_ was good. They'd made a difference and saved lives; something most of them had joined the Service to do.

Ranma was tired and sore, but caught up in the general good feelings. They'd traced Ryoga almost as an aside. He'd Jumped again, which Ranma figured was a good sign that he hadn't gotten caught in the crossfire. They'd be following him shortly, once all the wounded were offloaded and the crew had had a bit of a rest – it would not do to go into a potential battle in bad shape.

They'd made a difference today. Hopefully, they would continue to do well and make a difference. Ryoga hopefully wouldn't be that much further ahead of them.


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: This is a fan work and I own none of the 'verses that it's wandering through. I am totally not worth suing over this._

-Chapter 14 -

_Voyager_ shuddered as one of the _Galor_-class cruisers landed a volley of phaser fire. They'd gotten their wish – the lead ship of the two-ship force attacking them was commanded by Seska. She was a Gul here, and when she'd realized that the command crew of _Voyager_ recognized her, she'd laughed before cutting the circuit.

Unable to outrun their foes, _Voyager_ had been forced on the defensive. Tom was working the helm like a virtuoso, fingers flying across his controls and making the ship fairly dance around their foe's fire. They were giving back almost as good as they got, but _Galor_s were tough ships and _Voyager_ herself was hardly in the best of shape. Nothing important had failed yet – B'Elanna was working miracles down in Engineering – but it was only a matter of time.

At his post in the back of the Bridge, Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise; a long honed warning of imminent danger. He ducked as one of the panels behind him died in a shower of sparks, one hand covering the back of his neck. A few sparks hit that protecting hand and he thought a brief prayer of thanks to any beneficent deity who might have been listening.

Across the Bridge, Tuvok spoke in his unshakeably calm Vulcan tones. "Shields down to forty-three percent, Captain. I am also encountering difficulties in targeting, we seem to have taken sensor damage."

"Damn," Janeway swore quietly. Harry fought down a rising sense of panic at that. The Captain punched the comm on her armrest. "Bridge to Engineering. B'Elanna, I need the sensors back up, now."

The response was not Torres' angry growl, but Commander Worf's basso rumble. "The Chief is working on the impulse regulators, Captain. I will direct a team to the sensors as quickly as possible."

Janeway blinked. "Where's Carey?"

"Lieutenant Carey is working on the inertial compensators, Captain." The sound of a console being worked was all that came over the link for a moment. "I am rerouting targeting sensors through the navigation systems to compensate."

Janeway glanced behind her. "Tuvok?"

"The rerouted sensors appear to be functioning properly."

"Mister Paris?"

"The view just got a bit fuzzy, but we've got lots of open sky to play with here. We should be fine."

"Thank you Mister Worf. Tell B'Elanna that I'll want an update as soon as possible."

"Of course, Captain."

"Mister Paris, evasive pattern delta. Tuvok, concentrate fire on the lead Cardassian."

A chorus of 'Aye, Captain' sounded around the bridge. Harry gritted his teeth and concentrated on his job. And wished he hadn't put Holodeck credits down on Seska being a shipdriver in the here and now – The irony of the situation was several degrees past merely uncomfortable.

-------------

Gul Seska smiled. She'd always found the tales of the Mirror Universe fascinating as a youngster. Emperor Spock had a fascinating history once one got past the official versions of the past and into the real stuff, ruthless and deadly as they came. He'd been corrupted by the philosophies of the Mirror Universe and had tried to change the system here to match it. Growing up, Seska had been taught that he was a fool with no understanding of what he was trying to do. But a fool whose actions had given the Cardassians a chance to rise. That they rose alongside the Kingons was less than ideal, but they were, in fact if not in name, the senior partners of the Alliance. They were happy enough to humor the grunting, smelly bastards who made up the Klingon Empire. Let those neo-barbarians think they were in charge. History would show the truth, for the Cardassians intended to write it.

She'd read everything she could find about that universe; and it made for fascinating reading indeed. Sadly, there was little of it, even after using her connections within the Obsidian Order to learn more. Her fathers connections, truth to tell. He'd wanted her to follow him into Intelligence. She had found the navy more interesting, and her skills had helped her rise quickly. She wasn't the youngest Gul in the Forth Order, but she owed her position far less to patronage than the handful who were younger. No, her rise had been a combination of talent and tenacity.

As well, truth be told, along with one engineered scandal and some minor blackmail. Her father's attempts to groom her for Intelligence work had born fruit, though not the fruit he had intended.

Power she had, and a respected position. Being told to patrol for a Mirror Universe Starfleet ship that was moving this way had been an assignment she welcomed. Partially because by all reports, for all their trusting and benevolent natures, Starfleet crews were well trained and well equipped, making them a fine challenge. Partially because it would get her away from headquarters and give her an alibi while the start of her next little scandal was put in motion; her ambitions weren't quite satisfied with the rank of Gul, after all. And in no small part because they would, naturally, have all sorts of information about their homes. Information Seska intended to copy for her own study and amusement before transmitting to HQ for analysis.

The fact that this bunch seemed to know her personally was just icing on the cake. She was rather looking forward to seeing what she was like where they came from. It would be ever so interesting – persistent rumor stated that Emperor Worf was a nobody who had been stripped of his honour over there, she wanted to see how her own position compared.

"Target their port nacel for another volley. I want them crippled; this ship is a new design and taking it would be a coup for us all."

--------------

Another hit shook the _Voyager_, marked by one of the consoles in the engine room disintegrating in a flash of sparks and shrapnel and punctuated by a burst of profanity from Torres. The cold mathematics of the situation was turning the odds against them. Worf strangled a snarl and checked the readouts. The shields were stressed almost to the failing point and damage was piling up in a dozen systems. Every single engineer was working on something. There was too much damage to go around.

Worf wished desperately he was on the bridge. Repairs were not his forte. Chief Torres had put him to work as a glorified traffic director, freeing up all the engineers to fix things. He knew it was useful and important but he felt so helpless. He wanted to be contributing to something directly, not stuck down here.

He wondered how Geordie could stand it. Mark that, he wondered how _anyone_ could stand it. His thoughts wandered to the various Klingon engineers he had met in his interactions with that service. The instinct to maintain a weapon for another's hand but not wield it himself... it was alien to him. A moment of black humor touched him as he directed a more able engineer to a ruptured EPS conduit: no wonder Torres swore constantly in battle.

-----------

Harry winced as _Voyager_ shuddered around them. "Shields down to twenty-three percent; partial breach in the port shield." Without asking, Tom rolled the ship, presenting the marginally-more-intact starboard shields to their foes.

Tuvok's calm voice cut through his rising panic like a blade. "The lead _Galor_ is showing signs of engine damage. Shall I concentrate fire on their drive systems?"

The Captain's response was immediate, decisive. "Do it. Tom, try to get us some distance. We need to get clear."

For a moment, the only sound was the klaxons, then Harry noticed something on sensors. "Captain! Additional ship decloaking to starboard!"

"On screen. Identify, Mister Kim."

His fingers danced across the console. "It's – I think it's a heavily modified _Constellation-_class starship, but it's not broadcasting identification."

On the screen they saw the mystery ship. It had indeed started life as a _Constellation_-class starship, the old-style saucer section married to a secondary hull that was little more than an armature to support its four Warp nacelles. It was battered and scarred, but even that alone did not show the full extent of its changes. On the underside of the saucer had been grafted eight Klingon Bird-of-Prey disruptor cannons, mounted in turreted pairs. At the bow was what looked like a Cardassian-style shield array. The remainder of its phaser banks were not matching up according to his sensors. Harry was used to thinking of _Constellation_s as peaceful explorer vessels and transports. Seeing one retrofitted into a warship was unnerving.

The mystery ship set on a long, looping course around the two _Galor_s, her portside phasers and disrupters loosing a heavy rain of weaponsfire into the second ship of the formation. The rust-coloured Cardassian ship broke away from its pursuit of _Voyager_ and sent a volley of Photon Torpedoes towards its tormentor.

For a moment the _Constellation_ seemed not to react, then suddenly it was gone.

"Did they recloak?" Asked the Captain.

"I'm not – wait, there they are." He refocused the screen on the ship, which was firing again, most of a light-minute ahead of them. He pieced the readings together. "They made a short Warp jump, less than two seconds."

"In _battle_?" Chakotay's response was incredulous. "Are they insane?" Common wisdom was that using the warp drive in battle tended to cause one to overrun one's own fire.

There was a hint of admiration in Tuvok's tone; though it was so slight only someone who had worked with him for years could catch it. "Given that their weaponsfire is not in a direct line with their course, the manuver would seem to be safe enough. This seems to be an interesting adaptation of the Picard Manuver."

The ship took another hit as Seska's _Galor_ continued in pursuit. Jolted back into action, Tom started them dancing away from the Cardassian fire as Tuvok returned it. The upgunned _Constellation_ was doing well with its opponent, giving better than it got and throwing the occasional volley at _Voyager_'s opponent. It engaged in those little warp jumps a few more times, using them to dodge photons and bollix the enemy's phaser targeting.

Finally, the second _Galor_ broke away from the _Constellation_, her flanks bleeding air and her starboard nacell leaking plasma. The smaller ship followed relentlessly, fire raining down and tearing into the rust-coloured hull. The Cardassian ship was well built, a spaceframe designed to weather abuse. It could not hold for long against the pounding it was taking. On his display, Harry watched as the ship seemed to shiver, then snap in half just aft of center. Harry suppressed an appreciative whistle.

Gul Seska, seeing her comrade in arms fall, apparently decided that it was time to exercise the better part of valor. Her ship broke off its attack on _Voyager_, clawed for safe distance. With a predatory grin, Tom looped the ship around and lined them up on the _Galor_. Tuvok concentrated his fire on the Cardassian's engines. The mystery ship opened fire on it from its distance, then blurred into warp, popping out at a bare fifteen-thousand kilometers distance ahead and to port of her, Another volley flashed into the _Galor_, hitting it almost simultaneously with the volley fired at greater range. The rust-coloured ship's shields collapsed. Two torpedoes from _Voyager_ slammed home, detonating against naked hull. Seska's ship tore itself apart in a series of secondary explosions, culimating in her reactor core going off.

For a long, satisfying moment, the ship was at the heart of a miniature sun. Harry glanced around the bridge, meeting glances from Tom, Chakotay, and Tuvok. Chakotay looked a bit troubled, but seemed to have control. Tom looked satisfied, as did Tuvok, though as usual with the Vulcan, you had to look close to see it. They made a far better team than either would admit.

Janeway brought things back to order. "Hail that ship, Mister Kim."

"Chanel open, Captain."

Her voice was strong and clear, undertones of thanks mixed with wariness. "This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship _Voyager_ to _Constelation_ class vessel. Thank you for your assistance."

The screen flickered – they weren't transmitting in the same format _Voyager_ used – but quickly resolved into a face everyone on the bridge recognized. A few scars crossed that face, long and thin, but the face, and the voice of the man who wore it, were unmistakable. "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Terran Resistance Warship _Stargazer_." He paused for a moment. "We were happy to assist. Welcome to our little corner of space-time."

A smile quirked Janeways lips. More relaxed, she replied, "We didn't intend to wind up here, but we are very happy to see you. Is there a... safer place nearby where we could make repairs?"

"Naturally. I'll have my astrogator transmit a course."

-----------------------------

It had been a steady day thus far at the Neko Han Ten. Shampoo had alternated between serving customers and making deliveries for hours. The lunch rush had given way now, and it would be a few hours yet before the supper rush replaced it. She was enjoying this bit of relative leisure, sweeping the floor of the main room. There was a young couple sharing a special in the corner of the room, but other than that the restaurant was empty of customers. Shampoo hummed to herself as she worked, feeling rather cheerful.

Glancing at the couple brought her to thinking of Ranma. Her Arien had been away for a while now. According to Mercenary Girl he was off with some Magical Girls tracking down Ryoga. He'd been promised a cure in exchange for the aid, news that had... unnerved Cologne when she had told her great grandmother the news. The promise of a cure was one of the few bits of leverage they had on Ranma. Though she seldom used it – like Shampoo, Cologne enjoyed staying in Nerima. All the modern conveniences and plenty of entertaining mayhem to watch.

For herself, Shampoo didn't fear the possibility of Ranma choosing Violent Girl or Spatula Girl over her. She was the only one who was truly a martial artist, and they were, after all, already married. Ranma was like a hooked fish. They would let him strain at the line until he tired himself out, then draw him in. His own sense of honour would, she was sure, bring him to her side in the end.

As well as the thought of what he'd be ensuring himself and his offspring by surrendering to Shampoo – all the secret techniques of the Joketsuzoku. His devotion to the Art would, Shampoo was certain, override his other concerns. In the balance, the tribe would gain the techniques of the Musabetsu Kakutō Ryū – the only thing they were certain of regarding that school was that they had yet to see its full extent. The Joketsuzoku would be nigh-unstopable with that much power, and the Phoenix or Musk tribes would rise against them at their peril.

It was a good dream. If Ranma got a cure independantly, it probably would take longer to come true, but it was entirely possible that these magical girls wouldn't be able to cure him. Shampoo didn't know the details herself, but she knew it was supposed to be complicated.

Still, whatever happened, Shampoo was confident that Ranma would be hers eventually. And that Mousse would be deflected from his pursuit of her eventually. _Though not_, she thought as she glanced into the kitchen where the near-blind youth was doing dishes, _anytime soon_. She shrugged. One battle at a time.

A jangle of bells brought her attention to the door. A dark haired man in his mid twenties entered. "Nia Hao!" she said cheerily, "Welcome to the Neko Han Ten!" Looking him over, she quickly decided that he wasn't Japanese, though he did bow slightly in response to her words.

"Good afternoon, miss."

"What Shampoo get for you?" She couldn't quite place his accent, but put the thought aside as she lead him to a table.

"Just some water for now. And, if possible, I'd like to speak to the manager. I believe her name is Cologne?"

Professionalism kept the smile on Shampoo's face. She pushed her ki outwards, trying to get a feel for the stranger. Her eyes widened, he smiled slightly in response. A _very_ powerful mage. Beyond that power, she could sense nothing; his passive defenses were... thorough. What in the world could he want with great-grandmother?

"I mean no harm. I just want to have a word with her."

There was a familiar tap-tap-tapping noise. Shampoo turned, saw Cologne hopping into the room atop her staff. "Great Granddaughter, where are your manners? Get the man his drink." She hopped to the table, gave the stranger a measuring look. "Greetings stranger. I am Cologne of the Joketsuzoku. What brings you to my humble establishment?"

"My name is Chrono Harlaown. As you've probably guessed, I'm a mage." he kept his voice quiet, pitched so that it wouldn't carry as far as the dining couple. "I'm here for information."

Cologne gave him a long look. Shampoo set down drinks for them both, returned to her sweeping. But she kept an ear towards their conversation.

At length, Cologne replied to the foreign mage. "You are not one of the Mahora. You are not local, and I daresay you are not even from this planet. By the feel of your power I would guess you work with the Mages who took Son in Law on his latest adventure."

The stranger needed a moment to parse Cologne's statement, then quirked a smile in amusement before returning to the business at hand. "Nanoha and Fate?" At Cologne's nod, the stranger continued. "You are quite correct. The three of us are members of an organization called the Time-Space Administration Bureau. Initially, we recruited Ranma specifically to trace one person, but his ki abilities have proven rather interesting."

"And how does this concern me, wizard?"

"It was hoped that we could learn about Ki from you. Saotome felt he would be a poor teacher, but recommended you as a source of information and possibly training."

Cologne's smile was a thin one. "He presumes much. What would be in it for us?"

"I'm sure we could come up with something of interest to you. Gold, perhaps, or whatever local currency you'd like."

"And devices like the one you wear on your belt?"

Chrono blinked, glanced down. "That would be.. difficult. These devices are very powerful. Very dangerous."

"Not the sort of thing you would entrust to a stranger?"

Chrono smiled ruefully. "No. And I suspect that you're about to say the same thing about your knowledge of ki."

"You are highly perceptive for a male."

If the stranger noticed the slight, he gave no reaction. "It comes with the territory." He finished his glass of water, spent a moment in thought. "Well. I get the distinct impression that I'll not get very far trying to convince you to change your mind." A pause. "Even if I did agree to exchange one of our Devices."

"Again, most perceptive. I do appreciate that a mage would find ki a fascinating thing. Most of your kind dismiss the martial arts."

"The TSAB is always interested in learning. Though some of our politicians and bureaucrats seem to forget that at times."

"Their kind tend to." The two shared a slight smile. "No, I will not share our secrets with you, mage. They are our most valuable resource and only to be entrusted to those we believe worthy of such trust, who will not use it against us or pass our secrets to those who might. And we simply do not know you."

"I understand. Well." He stood. "I did, of course, have to ask. Your honesty is appreciated, ma'am. Good afternoon."

"May you as well have a good afternoon."

As the mage turned to the door, Shampoo found her voice once more. "Chrono? How Ranma?"

The dark haired mage smiled. "He's fine. He got into a fight with some natives, but he's recovering quickly."

Briefly, Shampoo tried to imagine natives who could give Ranma trouble in a fight. Must have been quite the place. "Thank you."

"I'll let him know you asked after his health." He bowed slightly to Cologne and Shampoo, nodded at Mousse, who had come out of the kitchen during the conversation, then left.

The happy couple were still seated at a corner table, so absorbed with each other that they had ignored the whole thing.

-----------------------------------------

Ryoga adjusted the straps on his pack again. Normally he was fine with long distance walks, but the events of the last few days had left him tired and vaguely sore. There was a decent-sized bruise spreading on his lower back, probably from the concussion grenade that had blasted him down that corridor. It made letting the pack rest normally against his back send twinges of pain up and down his spine. Not serious, but... enough that he didn't want to deal with it long if he could help it. He'd been paying attention to where he was going and was reasonably sure that he hadn't jumped.

Those took a fair bit out of him, lately. He wondered for a moment what had changed. It was annoying, both that something had so radically altered to throw his life into even more chaos than usual, and that he couldn't figure out the who, what, where, or how. It... rankled him some. He much preferred an opponent he could see and face. Fighting a shadow like this... seemed fruitless.

For now at least he would endure. If who- or whatever was messing with him figured it could screw with him and get away with it, it was in for a rude shock some dark night.

Musing on the topic of inventive revenge held him for a while as he wandered along the forested path. He was paying enough attention to keep himself in the here and now, but mostly he just put one foot in front of the other and didn't think about it.

He was brought out of his musings a few hours later about thirty yards short of a bridge when a bunch of folk stepped out of the woods all around him. They held weapons in their hands, but unlike the thugs back in Chicago, these guys moved like they knew how to fight. A smile came unbidden to his face as the largest member of the group, a man about a foot taller than he was, built solid like a tree and holding a pair of hammers, stepped directly into his path and spoke. "Hi friend. This is a toll bridge. We're going to get whatever money and goods you have; your choice is to give 'em to us, or get hammer'd on until you change your mind."

Ryoga looked over the group, a smile growing from ear to ear. They all wore some variant on grey pants and green shirts or vests. They were armed with a mix of weaponry, polearms, maces, hammers, one with something that looked like a kusari-gama. This was gonna be fun. He pulled his umbrella from the straps holding it atop his pack, opened it. "I'm not sure what you mean. Are you saying you guys can beat me up?"

The thugs threw glances around the group. Ryoga just stood there, umbrella leaning against his shoulder as he stood with a lazy smile. He wasn't about to give these idiots anything but a beating. It would be very cathartic to get into things with someone who could put up a decent fight. After a long moment, they raised their weapons. Good.

At that point, things got very fast and complicated. All but one of the thugs was in that initial rush, coming in with the kind of co-ordinated movements that whispered of a unit that had trained together long and well. Blades he parried with his umbrella, maces with bare hands. The polearms he carefully grabbed below the blades and pushed aside. Several he just snapped. This bunch was damned good, and he dumped his backpack to keep up with the pace he needed. The one with the kusari-gama wrapped a chain around his umbrella, managed to get it out of his hands with a well timed yank. They kept up the pressure, pressing in with weapons and fists. He started destroying the former with the breaking point – they were skilled enough that he couldn't let them keep such an advantage.

He was starting to turn the tide against the thugs when he glanced back to where he'd dumped his backpack. The thug who hadn't jumped into the fray was picking it off the road and shouldering it. He let out a shout and his men started to fall back. "Thanks for the donation, friend. Time for you to die now." He made a series of quick gestures, looking to be using some kind of Kung Fu as he did. Suddenly, the ground below Ryoga's feet seemed to turn to tar, sucking him down to his waist and then solidifying.

The man in green smiled at his incredulous expression. "You thought we were just stupid bandits? Hell no! You think these guys'd be stupid enough to be highwaymen in this country without an Earthbender?" His men were smiling, several of them nursing injuries, but still happy. They began to file away.

The man who called himself an Earthbender stayed behind the others for a moment, smirked. "You ain't bad for someone who can't Bend, but you just ain't good enough. Think I'll sink you all the way." He began to gesture again. Ryoga felt the rock around him start to shift. He wasted no time in jabbing a finger into the stone, shattering a large chunk of it out of his way.

The Earthbender froze for a split second in shock as Ryoga lept out of the shattered hole. He was barely able to dodge the lost boy's rush. Hammers in hands, he started his kung fu mojo and swung. Each swing pulled a head-sized rock out of the earth and sent it flying towards Ryoga. He was shattering them as they came, but the Earthbender was ramping up his rate of fire. Ryoga tried to close in while shattering the rocks, but wasn't making much headway. Frustrated, he shattered a final stone and just charged, arms raised in a blocking position. The stones ricocheted off him, hitting hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to stop him.

The Earthbender's expression went from concentration to disbelief to 'oh shit' as Ryoga raced to within arms reach and slammed a punch into the taller man's midsection. The Earthbender was folded in half around his fist, lifted from the ground and flying a good thirty feet. He landed in an awkward sprawl near his fellow bandits, who had stayed to watch the fight. The Earthbender rolled to his knees and started trying to puke up his anklebones.

Ryoga advanced, an expression of pure malice on his features. The thugs were looking back and forth from him to their champion, clearly weighing the pros and cons of staying. Ryoga cracked his knuckles loudly, lips twisting into a cruel smirk. They were so _very_ brave when they thought they had the advantage. Against an opponent who could beat their master, they were timid as frightened girls. This was going to be so very satisfying.

Then the Earthbender, having apparently puked up everything available, raised a fist and brought it down into the ground. A blunt spear of solid rock shot up between Ryoga's legs, drawing a high pitched '_eep_' out of him as it found its mark. The Earthbender pushed himself to his feet. Before Ryoga could recover, another spit of rock erupted from the ground slamming into him from behind. It was Ryoga's turn to go flying. The stunned martial artist tried to right himself in midair, but couldn't get his feet under himself in time. Still twisting around, the back of his head slammed into the stone rail of the bridge, causing him to black out moments before hitting the icy water of the river.

------------------------------------------

Ami had already been chatting on her phone with Rei when the youma detector went off, which made getting the rest of the Inners moving in the right direction a quick and reasonably painless process. This one was around the average they'd been getting lately.

The Senshi assembled on a rooftop about a block away. The youma had a group of civilians at a sidewalk cafe cornered. It was a feral looking thing, vaguely feline and moving on all fours. Wicked looking claws curved from its pawlike hands and feet, short bladelike bones jutted from its spine and shoulders, and a scythelike blade lashed the air at the end of its long, serpentine tail. As they watched, it took an almost playful swipe at one of the onlookers who was trying to edge away. The man jumped back.

Ami chewed her lower lip thoughtfully as she scanned it with the Mercury Computer. "It looks like it's a lot, well, tougher than I'd first thought. I'm getting a really weird reading off its skin."

Rei frowned at it. "It's awfully close to those people... I don't think we can hit it from here safely."

Usagi nodded. "Hopefully it'll try and come after us when we get down there. Then we can deal with it the regular way."

Minako smiled. "I have an idea or two about making it move if it doesn't want to."

The group exchanged nods. This would work. They leapt down and raced in, Usagi in the lead. She came to a stop about thirty feet from the youma, which turned away from the crowd and snarled. Usagi gestured at the youma and, In her most authoritarian tone, declared, "Foul monster and harmer of innocents! In the name of the Moon I will not let you hurt these people!"

The youma's response was to hunch itself up and growl menacingly. It did not move from its position near just ahead of the crowd. The Senshi fanned out, moved in a few feet closer. The beast glared at them all, but did not move to attack. Rather, it backed closer to the crowd, keeping them directly behind it. One of the civilians tried to edge past it; without looking towards her the creature growled, its blade-tipped tail whipping out, missing the young woman by inches. She 'eep'd and scrambled back into the group.  
Ami sized up the situation. Where the thing was, any missed attack would hit the civilians. Even a hit would be dangerous, for several of their attacks had a fairly wide area of effect. They needed to give the crowd a chance to get away. "Shine Aqua Illusion!" she shouted as she cast, enveloping the youma in ice. There was a moment of quiet, then the youma's form seemed to convulse; the icy shell shattering into shards and mist. It shook for a moment like a wet dog, then turned an almost mocking look towards her.

------------

The Youma regarded its opponents for a long moment, eyes gleaming with a feral cunning. It was unique, an experiment by an increasingly desperate foe that had thrown monster after monster at the Senshi to no avail. Its masters had noticed a few constants of the Senshi's behavior in battle and had tailored a Youma very specifically and at great expense in energy and raw material.

They wanted a patient hunter, one that would close with a target carefully and engineer any battle to maximize its own chances, both of victory and survival. They had noted the Senshi's proclivity for protecting the wretches too weak to protect themselves. They didn't – couldn't – understand why anything would feel such a motivation, but they were more than happy to take advantage of it. As a template, they looked to the beasts of Earth.

They found inspiration in the common housecat.

Cats, they saw, were natural hunters. Very patient, very agile, very aware of what they could and could not do, and possessing a great measure of stealth. When it came to raw cruelty, they could find no match for a cat with a mouse at its mercy. With no need to hunt for food, they hunted for sport and took great pleasure in tormenting and terrifying their victims. Fear could be a great source of power for a Youma. So they engineered a demonic cat and invested it with the requisite size, power, and fortitude to accomplish their goals.

They had barely managed to create one – there were many factions within the dark kindom and several opposed the creation of so specialized a creature. Approval had come only at great concession of treasure, and they would have only one chance. It had to work the first time, so its crafters had spent a great deal of time and effort to give it the ability to do so. It would feed on fear – indeed, the arrival of the Senshi had greatly increased the crowd's fear when they saw it break free – and when it reached a point where its existence was threatened, it would retreat and find another target. Perhaps it would just feed on that new target's fear, perhaps it would have the leisure to sup of the more filling feast of life energy.

Either way, it would feed, and feed the hopes and dreams of its makers.

------------

For a long moment, the Senshi and the Youma were locked into a battle of wills, staring at each other across the breadth of the street. Every move the Senshi made to close on the creature or get a better firing angle it countered with a move of its own, seeming very aware of their possible fire arcs. The stalemate was maddening.

Minako broke it. "Venus Love-Me Chain!" she shouted as she cast, whipping the string of hearts with considerable skill towards the creature. It looped around the youma's torso and then wrapped around itself to close the loop. The monster looked at it with an uncomprehending expression for a moment, then Minako yanked hard on her end of the chain.  
The creature's mass kept her first pull from moving it much, then it dug its claws into the sidewalk as Makoto and Rei lent her a hand. It snarled and growled, refusing to be moved. After a moment, feeling a moment of slack on the chain as the trio tried to catch their breath, its claws swept into the chain, jarring it loose. It looked at her with a magnificent sneer, whipped its tail at the crowd and removed a lock of hair from one of the civilians.

"Now what?" asked Rei.

"Uh, that was my idea." Minako sounded subdued.

"Let me try something," said Makoto, as she took up a martial arts stance and started moving in.

The youma turned its attention to her, growling low. When she got to within ten feet of it, it struck, forelimb stretching instantly and smacking her hard across the street. Her fuku had prevented her from getting cut, but she'd felt the points of its claws trying to dig in. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks to any deity who happened to be listening as she stood, gasping for breath.

The small crowd still cowered between the youma and the building. One member of the crowd edged away from the group; tried to make a break for it. Without looking the youma stretched another limb and smacked the poor man back into the herd.

Usagi's heart leapt into her throat at the sight, one hand going for her tiara by instinct. She stopped herself - she could control the tiara in flight fairly well, but from the way it just... stayed in front of those poor people, the odds were far too good that the tiara's carry-through would put it into a civilian after ripping into the monster. She shook with fury. "Coward! Beast! Fight us! Come on! Come and get us!" She finished with a shriek. "_MOVE_!"

The youma's mostly-humanoid face twisted in a magnificent sneer. It edged closer to the huddled crowd.

A glance made the rounds among the Senshi. They were drawing a blank for ideas. With that thing refusing to move, the chance of hurting an innocent was just too high for them to start blasting. Even a clean hit would likely throw the heavy, bladed body into the very people they were trying to defend.

-------------

_They look like they're out of ideas, _thought Subaru to Teana. _I know we wanted to get a good read on these people's powers, but those civies are gonna get hurt if this keeps up._

The two had spent the day collating data they'd gathered on the Senshi thus far, both their own and some information forwarded to them by Hellsing, who had gained it from 'other contacts.' They'd been relaxing and preparing for a bit of recreation when Subaru's Wide Area Search picked up the Youma revealing itself. They'd arrived on the scene shortly after the Senshi squared off against it and had set up to recon the situation.

_I know. _Teana paused a moment, weighing the mission objectives against the situation. _You're right. Lets get down there and help._

__

-------------

The stalemate was abruptly broken as some kind of band of blue energy zipped down from a nearby rooftop to behind the youma. It whirled towards the band as someone else - Usagi belatedly recognized her as one of the foreign magical girls Makoto had met - raced down the band on rollerblades. She hopped over a swing from the youma and skidded to a halt between monster and crowd; a barrier of rippling energy blossoming to life before her as puffs of smoke erupted from the strange glove on her right hand. The youma's claws slammed into the shield, which held fast. From the same rooftop, the other foreign magical girl leapt to the street, energy charging at the tip of her weapon.  
For a long moment, the Senshi were at a loss, then Ami and the purple-haired stranger shouted over each-other, Ami's "That shield is wide enough to cover the crowd!" almost lost under the stranger's "Fire away! I have these people covered!"

Rei recovered from the surprise first. "Burning Mandala!" The fiery blast splashed against the rippling shield as it enveloped the youma, which shrieked in pain, turning away from where it had been beating on the shield. Minako's Crescent Beam struck the creature squarely, bouncing it against the shield just as Ami cut loose with a Mercury Aqua Rhapsody. She'd taken a moment to get a read on how much power was in that protective spell and had been satisfied that it would block just about anything they could throw. Most of her blast hit the youma, the excess chewed concrete. Close enough on its heels to flashboil excess water was Makoto's Jupiter Thunder Crash.

The inhumanly tough youma shook off the impacts and bounded out of the small crater, which began to fill with water from a cracked pipe below. It was looking ragged but still ready to fight. It gathered itself for a leap into the Senshi's midst. Before it could, the other stranger planted her feet and fired. "Crossfire shoot!" A dozen magical projectiles spewed from her weapon, spiraling towards the youma and striking it in the flank with sufficient force to knock the already off-balance creature clear of the shield's edge. The purple-haired one turned to make sure the shield still covered the crowd.

Showing greater intelligence and self-preservation instincts than was common for its kind, the youma tried to run, leaping onto a rooftop. Before it could take so much as a single step further, Usagi's attack flew. "Moon Spiral Heart Attack!" The flashing wave of multicoloured energy crashed over the creature. The monster had time for a mournful wail as it disintegrated into dust.

The purple haired stranger dropped her shield. "HA!" The shattered pavement before her ended at a clear line marking the shield's edge. Behind her, the crowd stood, began to applaud both Senshi and strangers.

Usagi bowed to her. "Thank you for the timely assistance."

"Our pleasure." She hopped the crater, landing deftly. "It looked like you could use a hand."

"We'd have figured something out," said Makoto. She was looking at the crater - mostly her handiwork - and thinking furiously. She knew how much power she could throw around. To be able to block it, even after a youma absorbed the brunt... was impressive.

Usagi moved around the crater, seeking the man the youma had struck. It was the work of moments to heal him. She helped him back to his feet and he started to bow. She caught his shoulders, head shaking. At his confused look, she said, "I should have found a way to stop it from hurting you. I'm so sorry you were hurt." She bowed to him, very low.

"I thank you," he replied. "I am grateful you were able to save us, Sailor Moon." Looking over her shoulder, he continued. "And I am grateful to you, stranger, for aiding her."

The orange haired girl's reply was a simple nod. To Usagi she said, "Sorry it took us so long." She cocked her head a moment, listening.

Usagi concentrated a moment: sirens. The other Senshi heard them as well. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion somewhere else," suggested Ami.

"Sounds like a plan to me," said the purple haired stranger. The two groups took off into the night.

"Teana and Subaru, right?" asked Makoto as they roof-hopped. "Or are those some kind of cover?"

"No," said the purple-haired one, "They're our real names. I'm Subaru." A pause. "The 'canadian' part was the cover."

"Anything you want to tell us now?" asked Rei, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"Do you have a safe place to talk?" asked Teana.

"We do," said Usagi. "Why don't we head there now?"


	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer: I own none of the verses this wanders through. I'm doing this entirely for fun and am not exactly worth suing. Can't squeeze water from a rock._

-Chapter 15-

Ranma kicked hard against the Marine's shield spell, used it as a springboard to bound most of the length of the sparring mat and knock his opponent off ballance in a single go. He felt better than he had in days – a fight was just the thing to get the blood pumping. Coming after the high of rescuing people and this was turning into the best week he'd had in a month or so.

They had a good crowd – his first bout had been watched only by a handful of marines and off duty crew, but word spread fast. This was his forth round now, and by Ranma's quick guestimate about a third of the ship's company was in the gym watching, cheering, and betting. Most of the crew were cheering for the Marine he was up against. A few, mostly those with money on him, were cheering his name. Several more, mostly older, rough-and-tumble looking NCOs, were jeering the Marines, both specifically and generally.

Fate was in the back somewhere, watching but not participating yet. He hadn't seen her directly, but she was very distinct to his ki senses. There was something decidedly strange about her ki compared to most. Something to wonder about later.

He needed to concentrate on the fight. These guys were good. Theirs was an armed style, making excellent use of their generally spearlike weapons. They were fast enough that against most opponents the disadvantage of a spear – the pointy bit was way at the end, not close to you if someone got within arms reach – wouldn't be a factor. Against most opponents.

The Marine planted his feet and for a brief moment power gathered at the staff's tip. "Archon Volley!" he shouted, and a hail of fist sized green bolts flashed out at Ranma. Ranma dodged all but one of them, and even the one that hit was only a glancing blow, enough to tear his shirt but not to seriously harm him.

"Mōko Takabisha!" The blue-white beam flew true, deflected off the Marine's shield into the ceiling twenty feet above them. Ranma'd known the attack would be blocked. He'd counted on it; even while still blasting he charged, leapt upwards. Twenty feet was not enough airspace to keep a flyer out of his reach- the ones who could fly, most of them, he'd learned, couldn't. But twenty feet, for someone as fast and agile as Ranma Saotome, was enough room to jump, turn in midair, and jump again – off the ceiling and down to the deck.

The Marine saw him coming, had just enough reaction time that Ranma's descending fist hit a shield rather than his armoured shoulder. But that was okay; Ranma hadn't really been counting on that punch connecting. Even with the shield, the force of his ki-backed blow pushed the Marine back, off balance. Ranma dropped to the deck, catching himself with both hands. A leg sweep slipped under the marine's shield, slammed both heavy boots together with an impact that sent tinges of pain along both fighter's shins, sent the older man to the padded deck.

With catlike speed, Ranma had the Marine in a submission hold, arms held behind his opponent's back just tight enough to make sure the guy knew he was caught. "Yield?"

There was a moment's struggle as the marine tested Ranma's hold, then his shoulders slumped. "Yield, you bastard." Ranma helped him to his feet. "Damn, but you're fast. How'd you do that."

Ranma just grinned. "Trade secret."

-------------------------------------

The bridge of the USS Voyager was silent, the alpha shift staring at the screen with expressions of disbelief and not a little bit of irony. Harry was shaking his head at ops, mouth hanging open. At the conn, Tom was trying very hard not to break out laughing. "What a long, strange trip it's been," he muttered.

On the screen the plasma storms of the aptly named Badlands swirled. Ahead of them the Stargazer plunged into the maelstrom fearlessly. If they'd noticed the Voyager decelerating behind them, they'd chosen not to make a fuss. In all likelihood, thought Janeway, they're probably assuming we're just double-checking the course they gave us.

She turned a rueful smile to Chakotay. "I almost want to make an excuse not to go in."

Her second in command nodded, expression matching hers. "I know what you mean. I'm sure that we won't run into any problems, or another Caretaker wave, but..." He shook his head. "It should be safe enough. Well, as safe as the Badlands ever are."

"Take us in, Tom."

"Yes, Ma'am." His fingers flew across the console, shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed laughter.

------------

They had followed the upgunned Constellation class starship deep within the field of plasma storms, their course convoluted and doubling back on itself several times. Before too long, Chakotay had a fairly good idea of what planetoid they were heading for; a guess that was borne out after about two hours of careful, misdirected bobbing and weaving through the Badlands. Eventually they arrived at the planetoid Chakotay had guessed - when questioned he answered simply 'old hideout' - and entered orbit just behind the Stargazer. They shared the local orbit with a rag-tag handful of other ships - all but one of them smaller than Voyager - and two very ad hoc shipyards, one at each pole. The nearer of the two shipyards, which looked like the end result of an explosion in a girder factory, was in the midst of constructing a small, deadly looking vessel. Janeway knew she'd seen something like it in one of the updates from Starfleet but she couldn't place it offhand. She made a note to ask Captain Picard about it later.

Picard. She still wasn't entirely sure what to think of the situation. There was much of the man she knew from her home dimension, met briefly some years ago. Ironically, in the period between the loss of that Stargazer and his assignment to the Enterprise-D. The man they had met here, in command of this Stargazer seemed to have much in common with the other, but he was a rougher man; not so much hardened as driven. In many ways he reminded her of Chakotay, a freedom fighter, though one fighting against a far more ruthless enemy.

Safe from the prying eyes of the Alliance, they began to repair the damaged Voyager in earnest. The resistance fighters offered to loan them some techs for aid, and Janeway had agreed over Tuvok's protests. For all that some of Voyager's systems were technically still classified, these were more or less allies. It offended his Vulcan sense of order to let these outsiders go through secure items in his own domain. While the engineers worked, Picard came aboard with his senior staff. The members of the senior staff not involved in the repairs gathered in the conference room, Janeway, Tuvok, and Chakotay facing Picard, his second in command Jack Crusher, and his tactical officer Vigo. First, the Mirror universe natives told them, briefly, of their current situation. Afterwards, Janeway gave them the condensed version of _Voyager_'s various missadventures over the last several years and an equally brief sketch of the specific problems they were facing now. Picard briefly conferred with his officers, then he asked if he and Janeway could speak at greater length, though is subordinates had other things to do.

------------

Without thinking, Janeway replicated a cup of Earl Gray for her guest. Fortunately, that seemed to be something this Picard had in common with the one she knew back home. She sat behind her desk, hot coffee in hand. "I'll admit, I had almost given up on the chance of meeting anyone friendly here."

"Ours is not a forgiving place to live." He took a sip of tea. "So. What's your plan?"

"The Bajoran Wormhole can act as a bridge between our universe and yours. We should be able to make use of it to get home with the information we have."

Picard frowned. "The Bajoran system is quite heavily fortified. Are you sure you'll be able to make it there?"

"We won't be trying to fight, just to get through. We should be able to muster the speed we'll need."

The bald man nodded slowly. "Fair enough." For a long moment the room was silent, both Captains occupied with their drinks. Finally, Picard broke the silence. "Is there any possibility of the Federation sending aid to us here?"

Janeway's brow furrowed in thought. "I'm... not sure. The Federation is already recovering from a long war. And to be honest, decisions about things like that are well beyond my pay grade." A pause. "I will pass along your request, however."

Picard nodded, then shrugged. "The best I can hope for, I suppose." He stood, moved to the window of her ready room. Through it, the _Stargazer_ was visible a few thousand kilometers ahead. "I envy you, Captain Janeway. Your journey is nearly over, and ending victoriously. We, however, are locked into this cold war with no way out. We have no real way to defeat the Alliance. Our only hope that they destroy themselves. Any outside force capable of overcoming them would doubtless sweep us aside with them."

He sighed, eyes unfocused. "We can barely hold on. The _Stargazer_ is our best hope in this. Overworked, overpowered, on the verge of flying apart at the seams, older than the resistance she serves. One of the last ships commissioned by the Imperium before Emperor Spock was overthrown. We've modified her so heavily to be able to compete with what the Alliance is fielding; the disruptors, a captured Bird-of-Prey warp core to power them. And she simply can't."

"She seems a magnificent ship."

"She is. She has served us well. A fitting crown jewel for this fleet; worn and scarred and stubborn." He shook his head, stepped back from the window. "A few years ago we managed to acquire the blueprints for one of your ship classes, the _Defiant_s. One of them is being built in our north polar yard. We have two others. They are magnificent warships. And they aren't enough. We are hanging on by our fingernails and we are slowly slipping."

Such fatalism seemed very strange coming from Jean-Luc Picard. Janeway felt a need to offer some kind of comfort. "I can have my engineers forward you a copy of our engineering database. There should be some technology in there that may help you."

Picard looked at her, eyebrow raised. "Can you do that without creating problems for yourself?"

Janeway shrugged, then chuckled ruefully and smiled. "I'm almost certainly going before a Board of Inquiry as soon as we get home anyway. I'll be lucky if I even get to command a runabout in the future. I may as well do my best to help you."

"You seem less than terrified of the possibility."

"Oh, I would miss commanding a starship. But there are other things I can do. The sciences and such. A few old projects that I keep dusting off every so often but never have the time to get anywhere with. No need to worry about me, you have enough on your plate already."

Picard barked a bitter laugh, clearly surprising himself by bringing it out. "That I do. Well. Thank you for the tea. I should return to my own ship for now. I appreciate your offer of information."

--------------

B'Elanna Torres felt like she was a kid again. Several teams of engineers from _Stargazer_ had come aboard to help with the repairs. She'd been cautiously optimistic about the idea of working with the freedom fighters – something she put down to her Maquis background – but she'd not expected the amount of thinly veiled hostility she was getting. She hadn't gotten so many askance looks and heard so many muttered slurs since her childhood. She felt an urge to find a hat or a scarf or something to cover her forehead.

She'd mostly delegated working with the Resistance teams to Carey. When word came down that Janeway wanted to send them home with a copy of their database, Torres had lept onto the project. She was ensconced in her office, feeling very much like she was hiding from the world. She'd thought herself past this years ago.

She understood their unhappiness. She really did. But when it was directed at her, it was hard to be understanding. It was probably for the best that she was keeping out of everyone's way. Her temper, sort at the best of times, wouldn't be up to civility right now.

She just wanted this ordeal to be over. Getting home couldn't happen fast enough. Mark that, getting out of the Badlands couldn't happen fast enough. At the moment she didn't much care what quadrant they wound up in after, either. She'd gotten comfortable on Voyager, comfortable with the people she lived and worked with. Having that comfort gone... was disturbing. She was on edge, and probably would be for quite some time after. She made a mental note to do her best to control her temper once their guests left. This wasn't the fault of her Engineering team, she would have to try to not take it out on them.

----------------------------------

The world below was suffused with energy, so much that they could barely even detect Ryoga's emergence point from orbit, even knowing where to look. There was so much energy floating around that they would probably have considerable trouble tracking Ryoga groundside. There was nothing for it but to retrace his steps the long way on foot. Fortunately, the energy, while all over the place, wasn't concentrated, or at least not concentrated in such a way as to have any one place stand out. That was a toss up if it was good or not – less concentrated power could mean that individuals were more skilled, the way Ranma was, and could lead to interesting things down the line, but the three members of the field team had agreed to be more diplomatic with the locals this time around; they would hopefully be able to avoid any serious fights.

Ranma had healed far quicker than they'd expected, but he was still not quite back to perfect health. Still, he was more than ready to get off of the ship. He'd developed a distinct dislike of being stuck inside spaceships. Even the cargo hold was too small for his tastes.

Shortly they'd be heading for the surface and a search. He was looking forward to it. That much wide open space; he'd be able to test a theory or two on ki-powered flight.

The countryside was green and fertile; the road well made and maintained. No superpowered lunatics showed up to challenge them for tresspassing. It was turning into a quite plesant walk as the three of them followed Ryoga's trail. Nanoha and Fate were side by side chattering, glancing occasionally at their little scanner, while Ranma trailed them a short distance, listening to the sounds of the woodlands and generally relaxing. Every so often he'd take a leap, pushing ki into his jump and testing his various theories on ki-powered flight. It was maddening, he was _close_, but not quite there. He could get a fair bit of airtime out of a jump but he couldn't keep himself moving up there. Still, if he could get some more practice he could probably crack it.

They didn't know much about this planet. Like Earth, it was catalogued as a 'non administered planet' by the TSAB. There was power here, though, enough that he could feel it. The spirits of this world seemed more alive than those of Earth. The amount of raw, free-floating chi would be invigorating if it wasn't so unnerving. Absently, he rolled the pendant/communicator between his fingers as he kept an eye out for potentially hostile beasties. He'd caught a few glimpses of small critters so far, and he hadn't been able to identify any of them. Every single one of them looked really weird.

The afternoon wore on as they traveled. They'd cut through the trees a few times, finding the road again after. For Ryoga navigation, it was quite impressive. They made decent time all told, and Ranma was quietly smug that, not-quite-healed knee and all, he was in better shape than the ladies – who did not seem used to this kind of long hike - when they noticed that the sun was getting ready to set.

"I hadn't realized the time," began Nanoha. "Should we head back to the ship and pick up the trail here tomorrow?"

"If it's all the same to you two, I'd rather spend the night under the stars. Been cooped up in that ship too much."

Fate smiled. "Clausterphobic?"

"Of course not!" Ranma snapped, a little too quickly. He felt his cheeks redden. "Just... not used to it."

"Of course."

Ahead, they could see a small clearing set back from the road. Two figures were there already, setting up camp. One was a shaggy-haired youth, the other a portly older man. Nanoha and Fate slowed, Ranma matched pace with them.

_We should decide whether or not we're camping before we reach them._ Sent Fate. Ranma tried not to jump, he was still not used to telepathy.

_I think we should stop here, _replied Nanoha, _and see what we can learn about this place. It looks like the weather will be fine, I don't think it could hurt._

_I grabbed a field camp pack from the supply room, _began Ranma_. Will it have the stuff we need, or should we get more?_

_One of the Marine packs? It'll have a tent and two bedrolls._

_Cool. I can rough it under the stars, looks like it'll be nice weather. _

_No need, Fate and I will only need one bedroll._

Ranma, temporarily thrown off his stride be the statement, glanced between the two women. Their expressions were matched pairs of false innocence. He shook his head, knowing he was blushing and trying to fight the reddening of his cheeks. Pair of perverts. He'd heard as much from the crew, of course, but he'd not credited it at the time. It was inspiring some... interesting mental images now. He shook his head to clear it, cleared his throat. "Hello, the camp!" yelled Ranma as they approached the two strangers.

The youth looked up first, one hand darting to a sword leaning against a pile of gear. "Who're you?" his voice was a low, demanding growl.

"Ranma Saotome. The ladies are Nanoha Takamachi and Fate Testerossa-Harlaown. Yourself?"

The youth – Ranma could see a nasty burn scar marking the left side of his face – hesitated, expression mistrustful. The old man answered, "I am Mushi, and this is my nephew Lee. So nice to see other travelers on this road. Are you going to Ba Sing Se as well?"

"Just passing through. Saw your campfire and figured we'd drop by." He surveyed the small clearing. "Looks like a decent camping spot."

"It is," said the old man, a wistful expression on his face. "I have camped here before."

"Really, Uncle? I hadn't known." The scarred youth's voice held some of its growl, but his expression had turned thoughtful. Clearly, the old guy had some history. Most old folks did, though most youths didn't think to appreciate it. There was something to this 'Lee' too. Ranma was feeling optimistic about the evening. The _night_ was still gonna be awkward at best, but the evening was looking up.

------------

Zuko eyed Ranma with distrust. Truth to tell, he didn't really trust anyone, except for his Uncle. His home and his honour were probably lost to him forever at this point, but he could still dream. Still. This Ranma character... coming out of nowhere and just... inviting himself and his two lady friends to their camp for the night. Oh, he seemed nice enough, and Uncle seemed to trust him, but Uncle was, on many levels, a crazy old man.

Ranma claimed to be tracking someone. A 'friend,' or so he said. Friends didn't run off. The story stank like Uncle's months-unwashed sandals. This Ranma was a hunter.

Just like he used to be.

Uncle's tea was excellent, as always, but Zuko barely tasted it. His mind raced, suspicion warring with his own instincts. There was a frank openness to this Ranma. He seemed like a very straightforward and honourable man. And yet, there was something more going on. Zuko just couldn't tell what that was. Yet.

Uncle was talking about the last town they'd been in. "...Not more than a day's travel along this road. Fine little place. Good tea shop. Though there was a bit of an incident while we were passing through."

"Oh?" asked Nanoha in a leading tone.

"Yes," continued the old man, "A strange youth came charging out of the back of a restaurant, screaming something about not letting them boil him alive." Uncle chuckled. "The restaurant's owner charged out saying something about a pig." The others laughed.

Ranma smiled, still chuckling. "Did the boy have a yellow and black striped bandana?"

"Yes, actually, he did."

"That's Ryoga. This was earlier today?"

"Just this morning. So this crazy boy is the one you are chasing?"

"Yeah."

"What'd he do?" Zuko growled.

Fate answered, "He caused an accident back home. We need to find him before he causes another."

"An 'accident,'"the exiled prince muttered. "Sure_." What aren't they telling us? Who are they working for?_

Their clothing did little to suggest their place of origin. Nanoha was wearing an outfit of blue and white, Fate mostly black. Ranma's shirt was a bright red with some yellow knotwork on its front. The colour suggested Fire Nation, but the style was all wrong. They weren't from around here. They were too well dressed to be refugees. Ranma was too open and simple. Whoever they worked for, it probably wasn't his psychopath of a sister. He quirked a grin. That didn't mean much, though. It had been a long war, and there were many factions working on many agendas.

Whatever they were doing, Zuko wished them no luck with it. For a time he sat and brooded, tuning out their conversations.

Eventually he noticed that Ranma was giving him an appraising look. "What are you looking at?"

The other youth shrugged. "Just wondering. I don't know about you, but I'm getting a bit bored."

Zuko's response was a noncommittal grunt.

"You look like a fighter, Lee. Care to spar a bit, help settle dinner?"

"Spar?"

"Sure, a friendly little sparring match. Help each other keep their skills in shape."

Zuko thought for a long moment. That sounded like it could be fun. If the strangers tried anything fishy, he had Uncle for backup. "I'm in."

-------------

Ranma and Lee squared off near the back of the clearing. The short-haired youth took up a very aggressive stance. Ranma countered with a more defensive one. Lee had removed his shirt to get himself better freedom of movement – Ranma was momentarily grateful for modern tailoring – and both of them had taken a few moments to limber up. He watched the other youth carefully, waiting for him to make a move.

The burn on his face... it was too... clean to be a battle scar. Lee's eye seemed to work just fine, which suggested that some care went into that burn- healing arts good enough to remake an eye would be able to get rid of a scar. The guy was carrying around so much raw anger and rage. It wasn't a scar, Ranma realized in a moment of epiphany. It was a brand. Someone had marked him for life with that, a mark of shame. He wondered how the kid had gotten it. The tale would not be a pleasant one, he was sure, but it would be interesting.

Lee's expression shifted – he seemed to realize that Ranma was looking at his scar, rather than his whole self – and he charged with a snarl. He was good. Fast, lots of footwork. "You're not bad," Ranma observed as he parried a series of punches and kicks.

Lee didn't respond, just kept attacking. He was decent. The fighting style was vaguely familiar to the practitioner of Anything Goes, appearing to be a variant on Shaolin Kung Fu, but it had some wrinkles that were new to him. Ranma could keep up easily, threw the occasional attack of his own. As workouts went, this wasn't going to be much of one. This guy would do OK back in Nerima, but he wasn't nearly on Ranma's level.

What to do? Well, he could work on his ki detection. It could certainly be useful in combat, especially against other powerful fighters like Herb and his ilk. A nice light spar like this would be a decent way to get a handle on ki sense while fighting.

-------------

Iroh was rather enjoying the evening. The two women most certainly not locals. He wasn't sure how far from home they were, but he suspected it was further than they'd implied. The details weren't all that important. They were nice enough to talk with, at least, though instincts long honed by a lifetime of experience with the fairer sex told him that investing effort towards anything more than polite conversation would be a waste of his time. To each their own, he supposed.

Still, a pity. They were comely maidens.

Absently, he looked towards the sparring match going on near the back of the grove. Zuko was throwing himself into the fight. His frustrations since they had gone on the run had been piling up. A good fight would be a fine outlet for for his frustrations. He doubted his nephew realized it, but this Ranma outclassed him by a decent margin. The old general wasn't sure what kind of Bender the youth was, but that he was one seemed certain. He had great skill and power, and ki flowed through him.

Still, Zuko would probably be much easier to live with after this. A good release of tension. There were other, better ways, but none so convenient. And after seeing the frightening degree to which Azula had improved over the last few years, anything that might inspire his nephew to improve himself would be a good thing. He had a sinking suspicion that they would be confronting her again, soon. His shoulder twinged; a reminder of their last confrontation, old flesh not healing so swift as he wanted it to.

More motivation for improvement could only help Zuko. Likewise anything that pulled him out of his brooding, made him think about the future and stop obsessing about the past. He looked again to the fight. It looked like a decent little scrap. Still, not a match for pleasant conversation and good tea.

---------------

Ranma was absolutely fascinated by what he saw with his ki senses. Lee was generating a lot of ki, but he wasn't using it. Like Akane, he seemed to be using anger and aggression as an emotional focus to generate it, but where Akane used that power to strengthen her blows – generally to send skyward anyone she thought a pervert – Lee wasn't channelling it into his blows. He was coming close to doing so – the ki was flowing through his system – but he kept backing down from actually using it.

Ranma wasn't quite sure why. Normally, he'd put something like this down to not wanting to hurt an opponent in a friendly spar, but Lee wasn't shying away from punches and kicks aimed to inflict serious damage on an ordinary man, and he was not pulling his attacks. Ranma was, though he knew that the other youth would be sore in the morning from a few of the attacks he had landed, pulled or not.

Could it be that Lee had decided that Ranma wasn't going to let himself take any really nasty physical attacks and figured not using his ki techniques would be enough to make things fair? "Are you holding out on me, Lee?"

"Stop dodging around like a coward and you'll find out!"

"Oh, that's low." Ranma caught Lee's next kick, spun, and launched the scarred youth across the clearing in a body throw. "Cowards run, Lee. Martial Artists dodge an' block."

Lee's response was an angry growl. Power flared within him, but the shaggy-haired youth clamped down on it almost instantly. The next exchange of attacks and parries was faster, some of Lee's power leaking into his punches and kicks. But it didn't have the feel of deliberate actions, more like he was too pissed off to properly control his ki.

Well, then. Time to up the stakes. Ranma wanted to see what this guy could _really_ do. He was always interested in learning new techniques.

---------------

Zuko knew he was losing his temper. Ranma had just been _toying_ with him! The damnable braggart had said as much, and then started making an utter mockery of his efforts. Where before he had dodged or blocked or parried everything Zuko could do to him, now he was practically dancing around the clearing. Where before they had traded blows, now Ranma was landing hit after mocking hit. He couldn't even track the pig-tailed boy's attacks, only feel them, little tap after little tap, each rich with the promise of what they could have done. Ranma'd been mocking him this entire time.

It was like fighting Azula.

---------------

"What is he doing?" Mushi's tone was concerned.

"Who, Ranma?" Nanoha hadn't been paying much attention to the sparring session for a while. There didn't seem much point. Ranma'd been quite confident that he wouldn't be in trouble in a friendly spar, and given his abilities she figured he was right. Still, something was worrying the others. She turned to look.

Fate had looked a few moments earlier. "Just showing off. It's how he fights."

"It was not Ranma to whom I was referring..."

Lee was no longer looking like he was enjoying their sparring match. Rage filled his features as he fought. No friendly fight, this, his intent was clearly lethal. Was Ranma egging the guy on? Nanoha thought about that a moment. Of course he was. Still, despite his opponent's greater aggression, Ranma seemed to be handling things fairly well.

Then Lee spat something profane and started hurling bolts of flame at Ranma.

Even this didn't throw the aquatransexual off his stride. Ranma kept dodging around the bolts of fire, even as they started to ignite the grass and bushes. _Should we be stopping this?_

Fate's response was immediate. _I don't think we need to. Not yet, anyway. Ranma mentioned doing this before to pick up new techniques._

_Deliberately antagonize someone?_

_He says it's the best way to get a look at someone's best techniques._

Before she could respond, Mushi jumped to his feet and shouted, "ZUKO! Stop this right now!"

The shaggy-haired youth ignored Mushi, blasted a wave of flame at Ranma. Ranma lept it easily, laughing. "Stop! Underestimating! ME!" he shouted, blasting away wildly as he tried and failed to hit the agile martial artist.

There was steel in Mushi's voice as he repeated himself. "Stop this! NOW!" He advanced on Lee/Zuko and Ranma, his expression a mixture of anger and disappointment.

"You want this stopped? Okay." Ranma moved with inhuman speed, ducking inside the other youth's guard and striking him perhaps three times; short, sharp jabs. The shaggy-haired youth collapsed.

Mushi gave him an appraising look for a moment. Ranma's stance was relaxed, he seemed to be willing to leave the fight here. Mushi made a complex series of gestures, ending with both hands seeming to push downward. The fires in the grass and bushes faded, swiftly reduced to cooling embers. Mushi's expression was hard as he looked them all over. "And what happens now? Now that you know what we are."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," said Nanoha. "When we said we were not from around here, we were serious. We're just passing through; we have no interest in local politics."

Lee muttered something caustic. Ranma shot him a look and responded with a quietly growled statement.

Mushi gave the two women a long look before continuing. "I do not know why, but I think I believe you." He sighed, for a moment looking very, very old and tired. Then, "At least this place is remote enough that we were not seen by unfriendly eyes." He turned towards Ranma. "I apologize for my nephew's behaviour."

Ranma shrugged. "It's not a problem, Mushi. I was fishing for a reaction anyway."

"Why?"

Another shrug. "'Cause I could see that he had some kinda ki attack he was coming close to using, but kept stoppin' himself. I wanted'a see what it was." He crouched, touched a few pressure points.

Lee sprang to his feet. "You were trying to get yourself burned?" His voice was a mix of anger and incredulity.

An eloquent shrug. "Didn't know fire was involved. Just wanted'a see what ya could do. That was a cool trick. What's it called?"

A long moment of silence. "You really aren't from around here, are you?"

"Nope."

The mood in the clearing took some time to cheer to where it had been, but it did cheer up. The old man relaxed before the youth did, happily making more of his excellent tea and chatting with Nanoha and Fate. He made a token attempt at a pass on them, accepted their 'no' with good humor. When he relaxed, the old man was quite entertaining and rather charming.

By unspoken mutual agreement, they made no issue of false names, nor did anyone mention that Mushi had used another name for Lee when he had started throwing fire around.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, Lee and Mushi accepting that they genuinely did not care about the fact that the two of them were 'firebenders.' Ranma respected that for whatever reason they did not want to use those abilities openly here, but he still talked with both of them about the theory behind it.

--------------

The five travellers rose early the next morning, shared a quick breakfast and went their separate ways. Once they were out of line-of-sight, they called the _Pauline_ for a quick teleport; heading quickly to the town where Ryoga had been spotted as a shortcut. As they picked up the lost boy's trail again, Fate asked, _When the old man intervened in your little learning situation, what would you have done if he actually attacked?_

Ranma smiled ruefully as he answered. _Tried to defend myself and hope you and Nanoha would get in on the action quickly. Fighting old people is dicey. They always know the nastiest tricks._

------------

"You seem thoughtful, nephew. You are not planning on abandoning me again, are you?"

Zuko shook his head, not looking up. The two of them walked the dusty road together. "No, Uncle. Just thinking."

He'd been thinking a lot since last night. Through most of the night, truth to tell. He didn't like to lose, and he'd been running through the fight, and some of the things Ranma had said, more or less constantly. The stranger had claimed no malice, simply curiosity. The hell of it was, Zuko believed him. He'd said that he honestly had just wanted a 'friendly fight' and he'd only changed his mind because he was curious about Firebending. Zuko wondered where the hell the guy was from. Someone not knowing about Bending just seemed wrong to him. "Uncle... why would someone who isn't a Firebender want to learn about it?"

The old general shrugged. "Possibly for the same reason I studied Waterbending, Nephew. We can always learn something from others, and it is a mistake to assume that we already know everything about Bending. I learned to redirect lightning by studying Waterbending. And there is much about Bending that we do not know."

"But... only the Avatar can use more than one element. And Ranma wasn't even a Bender! He fights like Ty Lee."

"And why would that stop him from being a Bender?"

Zuko inhaled to bark a retort, then stopped himself. He'd never thought about that before. "Huh." They walked in silence for a few minutes. "So what kind of Bender do you think he is?"

"I have no idea. I am not even sure he is one, but it is certainly an interesting question. A similar question led me to my lightning trick. I would urge you to ponder this one."

"I think I will. Thank you, Uncle." He looked skyward as he walked, looking to the sun as he pondered the nature of Bending. Food for thought.


	16. Chapter 16

_Disclaimer: Blah Blah Blah I don't own, blah don't sue, blah blah blah doing this for my own petty amusement._

- Chapter 16 -

The Senshi and their guests had tried to return to the Cherry Hill Shrine the night they met, but when they'd arrived, they had found that Rei's Grandfather was awake and alert in the main room. Both groups had quickly agreed to meet a few days hence, on a night when they knew the old man would be out of town. Subaru and Teana asked if it would be okay for them to bring along their superior officer – in case the conversation veered into territory they couldn't discuss openly themselves.

The Senshi agreed, and quickly contacted the Outers. Partially for information of their own – Setsuna remembered far more of their previous lives than the others did even now – and partially for backup if things went sour. Michuru's Deep Aqua Mirror would also come in handy to make sure the strangers were telling the truth. The strangers seemed likable, Subaru bubbly and energetic, Teana more businesslike but still a nice enough sort, but there was still so little they knew about them. A glimmer of paranoia hung about them, especially after Ami went through the Mercury Computer's logs and found that the two of them had been waiting on a nearby rooftop for most of the fight with that youma before charging in. The possibility that this was some elaborate ploy on the part of their enemies was lurking near the forefront of everyone's minds.

The Outers were out of sight when Subaru, Teana, and their boss, a man in his mid twenties they introduced as 'Admiral Harlaown,' arrived. Greetings were exchanged, snacks served. The Senshi were in their fukus, not their civilian guises. It wasn't ideal – they were leaning even more heavily than normal on their disguise spells, something that had Makoto looking decidedly nervous – but for the moment it was their best bet for a private conversation.

They made polite conversation for a while, mostly the Senshi asking questions of their guests. The Outers were listening in, using the Mirror to verify what they were told. If it turned out they were being lied to, that these strangers were trying to play them, the Outers were going to come in fighting. As the conversation continued, Usagi wasn't sure what surprised her more, the things the strangers were saying or the fact that they seemed, on the face of things, to be true.

Chrono Harlaown wasn't exactly human. His family had been living on a world called Mid-Childa for generations. Teana Lannster's story was similar, though she was less sure of how long her family had lived on Mid-Childa due to the death of her parents when she was younger. Only Subaru Nakajima had blood ties to Earth, but her family had... emigrated... generations ago.

And yet, Subaru was the most alien of the lot, a cyborg. Ami was still scanning madly, ecstatic at what she was seeing from the Mercury Computer's sensors as she poked and prodded Subaru. The cyborg was enduring the treatment with good humor, answering Ami's barrage of questions and giggling. Teana was getting progressively more aggravated with Ami and Subaru – with Ami for her prodding and with Subaru for her accepting it. A few sharp looks had passed from the Admiral to his subordinate.

They'd been talking for most of an hour when Chrono put his teacup and saucer on the table. "We've talked for a while, told you our story. At this point I'd like to propose we end this little dance and move on to the reason we're here right now."

"Your concerns about the Moon Kingdom," said Rei.

"Indeed." He picked up the teacup again. "Given that at least one of your friends has been scanning us the entire time we've been talking without taking exception, I propose we end that portion of the dance as well."

A look shot around the gathered Inners, mirrored by a look shooting around the Outers in the other room. "What are you talking about?" asked Usagi in a tone of nervous false innocence.

"The five mages in the other room, presumably the 'Outer Senshi,' and your associate known as the Small Lady." He sipped his tea again.

The partition slid opened with a faint shfff. "How long have you known we were here?" Setsuna's tone was curious. She and the others shuffled into the room, weapons in hand. The others wore expressions that were a mix of anger and incredulity

"I suspected you'd have backup in place from the moment Agents Lannster and Nakajima told me about this little meeting. I confirmed it when you started scrying us."

At the Senshi's look of mild surprise, Subaru suppressed a giggle and Teana spoke. "We know you're not stupid. It was only logical that you'd have a trump card or two in play. We certainly would in your place. I'm honestly surprised you didn't bring along that Tuxedo Mask fellow."

Minako's expression was suspicious. "Wait... you suspected we'd have an ambush set up and you came anyway?"

"Wouldn't be the first time Subaru and I've done it. Besides, we have nothing to hide. We figured we wouldn't have anything to fear from you."

Ami chuckled. "So you trusted us to trust you?"

"Essentially."

Haruka chuckled as she walked into the room, taking up a position behind Makoto and Ami. "I like them. They have spunk." Her expression turned serious. "Now. Spill it. What do you think we're planning?"

If Chrono was intimidated by the forces arrayed before him, he gave no sign. "Two of our agents were on-planet a few weeks ago and encountered a highly skilled martial artist/thief. After defeating him, they encountered the Inner Senshi, who thanked them for taking down the thief." He paused as expressions of recognition passed around the Inners. Makoto muttered something that sounded a lot like 'I knew it' under her breath.

"Agent Testarossa recognized some of the terms used from the old histories but was unable to place them. She made an enquiry which was investigated by our chief researcher. He found no firsthand histories of the Moon Kingdom, but a number of secondhand ones. The tale they told was... not encouraging to us."

"What did they have to say about the old Moon Kingdom?" Usagi blurted the question without thinking. Her memories of her previous life were still spartan, with many gaps.

Chrono told the tale that Yuuno had found in the histories. It was a tale of tyrants and monsters, brainwashing and enslavement. The worst excesses of empire builders and colonialists. All powerful mages and magical superweapons powered by the deaths of millions. The Senshi kept glancing back at Michiru, who was staring into the Mirror intently, an expression of concentration and growing unease on her face. When Chrono finished speaking a quarter-hour later, all eyes save Setsuna's turned to her. She saw the questions in their eyes and took a ragged breath.

"I don't want to believe it... but there are elements of truth to what he says. Not many, but... they are there."

Setsuna broke the resulting silence. "Truth is mutable and subject to interpretation. The facts of the situation are rather different than what is held in those second-hand histories." She frowned. "With enough contortions, and removal of context, I can see the histories being twisted into such propaganda... but the facts of the situation are very different."

"Such is often the case with history," said Chrono, nodding.

Usagi was nearly in tears. She clung to Setsuna's words, the unspoken promise that they had not been monsters. "How could you believe that about us?"

Chrono paused to frame a response. Before he could speak, Teana answered for him. "We didn't take it at face value. The fact that everything about you was damning suggested we were only seeing one side of the story. Hence me and Subaru being sent here to gather info." She shrugged. "If we'd believed it outright, we'd have come in swinging, not talking politely and helping you fight monsters."

"Essentially correct," said Chrono. "There were some in the Admiralty who wanted to take it at face value and make a pre-emptive strike. Cooler heads prevailed." Another sip of tea. "Still, you can see why we decided to investigate. Stories that dire are worrying."

"Fair enough," said Setsuna. "My memories of that incarnation are quite clear. Would you like to hear our side of the story?"

--------------

Chrono listened with half an ear as Sailor Pluto told them the history of their Moon Kingdom as an apparently first hand source. It was certainly fascinating, but in the end, he was paying more attention to the other Senshi and their reactions to both the histories Ferret Boy had given him and what Pluto was saying now.

He had gotten very, very good at reading people in the last decade, a product of being so deeply betrayed by a man who'd been a surrogate father to him. He had a fairly solid read on the Senshi now, especially on the Inner Senshi. Whatever they may or may not have been in a previous life, this generation was not capable of creating a dark empire. In fact, they were likely to fight such a rising empire tooth and nail. A telepathic conference with his subordinates found all three of them agreeing. He was glad.

The Inner Senshi were an open, honest bunch. Dark conspiracies were not something that was in them, and he could tell they were using some rather potent disguising and obfuscation spells to keep their identities hidden. Still, Chrono trusted his ability to read people as well as his ability to look past such spells. They were honestly relieved at what Sailor Pluto was telling them, at how jaundiced and false the accusations made had been.

He turned his attention to the Outers. Nepture and Uranus stood together, to Setsuna's left. There was a hardness to Uranus' expression, even now, but it was at least partially an act as best Chrono could tell. They were better at masking their relief than the Inners, but there were subtle signs of it there. Neptune kept looking into her mirror, which seemed to be a scrying device. Uranus' guard was still up, but one hand perched on the other woman's shoulder.

They seemed – what was the euphemism favoured by the Mid-Childen press these days? Ah yes, "best friends."

Flanking Pluto from the other side were Sailor Saturn and the Small Lady. The Small Lady seemed to be sizing up himself, Teana, and Subaru the same way he was sizing up her side. Noticing his gaze, she smiled slightly. The two exchanged nods, each recognizing the other's efforts at gauging the gathered mages. Saturn was younger then the other Senshi, and the purple-haired youth held aloft a genuinely nasty looking polearm. The weapon radiated power to Chrono's senses, moreso than any of the others. It did not seem to be power that was all that well controlled. Something told him she would use that power only reluctantly; he decided for now that he would trust that instinct.

Which brought him to Sailor Pluto.

The green-haired Senshi reminded him of Hayate in many ways. Soft spoken, calm, knowledgeable, with a presence bringing calm to her friends and companions. The others looked to her. That she had her own agenda he did not for a second doubt, and for all she protested that the version of history they'd found were pure lies, he would lay good money on her own tale being equally skewed.

But in the end, that was not important so far as he was concerned. These Senshi were not the monsters they'd feared after reading the histories. Simply another group of mages on Earth. This world produced an amazing number of mages for a planet that was considered – in what he was increasingly convinced was a mistake – as a backwater.

Eventually, Pluto's tale came to its close. "...and the battle with Beryl's forces overran us very quickly. It was then that the Queen used the Silver Crystal to send our souls into the future for rebirth and destroyed the enemy. That may be the 'superweapon' your tale speaks of. It was not powered by the death of our people, but by the Queen's love for them and her grief at their passing. The act of using the Crystal's full power killed her."

"If playing that trump to its limit was fatal," replied Chrono, "I certainly cannot blame her for hesitating."

Pluto's expression was clouded; her gaze focused not on now but on yesteryear. Her mind was likely on that battle. In fact, looking around the group, many of the others had similar gazes. Memories of their past incarnation seemed to be in bloom, almost of certainly that apocalyptic battle. He'd seen that expression before – survivor's guilt. So many had died, and here they lived again. It was a feeling he knew himself.

The silence stretched for some minutes before Chrono broke it. "So. That was what happened to the first Moon Kingdom. Can I ask why you are planning to rebuild it?"

Pluto's reply was soft. "There's a disaster coming. An asteroid that will impact in a little over ten years. I've seen the future; no earthly tech can stop it and we cannot stop it completely. Its impact will create an ice-age; and reforming the Moon Kingdom and creating Crystal Tokyo is the only thing we can do to save lives."

There was a long moment of silence. Chrono, Subaru, and Teana exchanged glances.

_It certainly sounds plausible, _sent Teana.

_My instincts tell me to trust them, _continued Subaru._ They seem like good people._

_I agree. _Chrono stood. "An asteroid we can deal with." He paused a moment, waiting until he had the attention of the Senshi. "Ladies. We have a capital ship in orbit. If you'd like to join us aboard, we can help you."

------------------------------------

They found Ranma in the ship's gym. He was spending most of his time there when they weren't groundside, sparring with assorted Marines, performing one of many kata, or just meditating. The sight had become common enough that it no longer held the interest of the crewers. This sight, however, might have drawn a crowd at any time other than the middle of the ship's night.

Ranma was floating in midair, feet a meter off the deck. An aura of power flowed around him, faint in the lights but definitely there.

Nanoha and the ship's doctor exchanged glances. "Ranma..." said Nanoha.

The aquatransexual dropped to the deck, aura fading from view. In a tired voice he said, "Hey. What's up?"

"That looked suspiciously like flight. Did you manage to crack that little mystery?"

Ranma chuckled, mopping at his forehead with a rag. "Almost. Almost. I can hover, but I can't really move around. And it just tears through energy like you wouldn't believe. But I'm _close_." He exchanged nods with the doctor. "Am I in trouble for not resting my injuries longer?"

"It's not that," said the doctor in a clinical tone. "From what I can tell, you seem to be fully recovered. In better health now than when you arrived on board, frankly. Our spells undid some old damage to your system."

"What kind of damage?"

"Well, it seems like you spent a period suffering from malnutrition as a child."

Ranma nodded. "Yeah, the training trips with Pops were a bit rough that way. Anyway, what's up?"

The doctor sighed, rubbed the back of his head. "You were told when you were given that Device that it would monitor you and your ki use, yes?" Ranma nodded. "It was also examining your curse and the forces it exerted when activated. Trying to gather more data about it so we could undo it more easily when the time comes."

"Makes sense. But you wouldn't be talkin' to me about it now unless something had gone wrong."

"Indeed. How much do you know about the structure of curses, Ranma?"

Ranma barked a laugh, held up a hand with forefinger and thumb perhaps an inch apart.

"Then I'll try to explain. Most curses are like a bit of cloth overlaid onto something. Particularly potent ones are.. attached, as if someone sewed that bit of cloth into a soul, like a patch on clothing. Do you follow so far?"

"More or less. Based on that, I'm guessing removing a curse generally involves finding the stitches holding the curse in place and undoing them?"

"Essentially. In this case however..." He took a deep breath, exchanged glances with Nanoha. "In this case it looks as if the curse is attached more thoroughly."

"What do you mean?"

"The... edges... of the curse are interwoven with the weave of your own soul. The curse seems to have... merged with your soul in the time it's afflicted you, presumably because the curse is activated so often."

Ranma's response was a mutter of profanity in Japanese. "So you can't see a way to remove it?"

"Not... quite. There's no... loose threads to tug on to work it loose, which is essentially how you remove a curse without harming the cursed one."

"So... you'd have to, I guess, cut it out, or something?"

"Yes."

Ranma sighed. "And I'm guessing that would be bad."

"Yes. From what we have observed of your ki and how it interacts with the curse, forcibly excising the curse from you would probably reduce your ability to generate and use ki considerably."

Ranma swore under his breath again. "Figures. I'm beginning to think I'll never find a cure." He sighed. "Ah well. We've come this far, I'm still game to help you find Ryoga..." His expression turned thoughtful for a moment. "Hey, you know about Ryoga's curse from the old days, right?"

"Yes. Based on that data, we shouldn't run into this kind of difficulty, unless the curse has mutated greatly over the generations."

"Do curses like that one, uh, mix with other ones?"

"Not usually. Why do you ask?"

His expression turned defensive. "A man's allowed to be curious, ain't he?"

There was a moment of silence as the doctor and Nanoha exchanged looks again. There was something he wasn't saying, but they weren't sure what.

"Anyway," continued Ranma after a moment. "When are we teleporting down for the next part of the search?"

"Soon, we're having a bit of trouble pinpointing his emergence point on this end. The planet he landed on has an immense number of mages." A pause. "You're still willing to help us?"

Ranma shrugged. "I said I'd help you find Ryoga. I won't break my word. Payment, we can talk about some other time." A pause. "Do you want to do that sympathetic magic stuff on me again to try an' pin him down?"

"If you're willing, it would help."

"Sure."

Ranma followed them to the _Pauline_'s bridge. He exchanged waves with one of the more talkative techs as he walked over to the sensor station they'd used the last time they needed to use him to find their entry point from orbit. As they set up the spell, he looked through the bridge viewports at the planet below. "Uh, this might just be the guy new to space missin' something, but haven't we been to this planet before?"

_We have_, sent Fate as she began casting the locating spell. _Several stops ago, that nice little inn. It's been just over a year and a half, local time, since our last visit._

_A year and a half. And it was what, two weeks for us? That's just weird._

_That's time travel. We've been time-jumping with every stop so far, this is the only time it's been apparent, since we're coming back to a world we previously visited._

---------------------------------

Ryoga badly needed to find a tailor.

Years of dealing with his damnable curse had helped him gain a well-honed instinct for sizing clothes visually, and it had more or less worked as he ran through that little village. He'd grabbed the first outfit he'd seen that looked like it would fit. Strictly speaking, the green clothes fit, but he'd been tripped up by the somewhat unusual style of tailoring. The shirt was made for a man less broad of chest and the pants rode up. They weren't comfortable and they didn't give him the freedom of movement he was used to.

This wouldn't be a problem under most circumstances, but duking it out with fifty or so bandits who had some kind of magic user as backup was making him notice little problems like that far more than usual.

The magic was weird, something in it got through his defences no matter what he did. At least he was tough; it would take a lot of that mage's mojo to put him down. Still, it was distracting, and he didn't much need that. The bandits themselves wouldn't be much of a threat on their own, but this was just getting frustrating.

"This sucks!" he shouted, beginning to rant and rave. "Did I ask for any of this shit? No! I've been bouncing around kamis alone know how many damned places. I've been arrested, shot at, blown up, crossed a frikkin desert with freaky coral and angry natives in it, had people try to eat me a couple times, and I got kicked in the balls by a rock the other day after being a victim of highway robbery! Literally!" A ragged sob tore from his throat as he surveyed the bandits and their pet mage, who were giving the depressed and angry youth a lot of room suddenly. "The kamis themselves have it in for me! And now I gotta deal with a buncha bandits even more stupid than the last bunch." He hung his head. "And I don't think I'm ever gettin' home at this rate.

The bandits stood around exchanging glances as they tried to figure out what to do with their very depressed victim. A few of them, newer to the life than most, were feeling a bit bad to dump on the guy when he was clearly having such a shitty week. At least he wasn't busting armour and weapons anymore. One bandit, somewhat bolder than the rest, decided to try and help. "Hey, cheer up, kid. You'll be okay."

"Oh, shaddup! You don't know anything about me and this kamis-damned curse I have to deal with." A ragged, shuddering breath. "I just... I can't take this anymore!" Power flared around him as he screamed out, "Shi Shi Hokodan!"

------------

It had been a boring day so far for Lina Inverse and co. They'd finished their business in Seyruun and were en route to the Artemay Tower. Rumor had it that there was a copy of the Clair Bible there. They had many uses for one of those. If nothing else, it would help against Dragonmaster Gavv.

And with a little luck, they might be able to accomplish a few more things. Zelgadiss, she knew, wanted it to try and undo the insanities inflicted on his body by Rezo. Lina couldn't blame him, she supposed, but in his place she'd be trying to keep the attendant power while losing the bad things they did to her looks. For herself, she wanted to get her hands on a Clair Bible for its spells and secrets.

Still, it was a decent day for a walk. She'd forgive the poor, ignorant commoners of Seyruun who'd wanted them out of town after their battle in the floating garden. She didn't mean to drop a chunk of the garden onto their neighbourhoods, but commoners seemed to little understand the realities of sorcerous combat. Stuff like that was part of the whole deal. She'd saved the city, hadn't she? Ah well. It was a nice enough day, as good a time as any to travel. Quite peaceful too.

The silence was abruptly broken by a large, green-tinged explosion in the distance. "Whoa!"

"What caused that?" Zelgadiss eyed the cloud of dust and debris as they started to settle.

Amelia charged forward. "Whatever it is, it's our duty as heroes to check it out! People might be hurt! There may be a need for Justice!"

Gourry and Lina exchanged shrugs and raced after her, Zelgadiss a step behind them. Martina's laughter chased them as they ran. Lina grit her teeth and tried to ignore her. She was running out of reasons not the kill the annoying pest.

Ahead, she could see figures moving through the woods. Faintly, she could hear their panicked shouts. "Faster!" and "If we reach the crossroads maybe we can lose him!" Around a corner, she saw a group of harried, dishevelled thuggish types. Lina and Gourry identified them as what they were almost instantly, instincts borne of years of practice hunting their kind: bandits. A predatory grin crossed his features, matched by her own.

The bandits slowed when they saw Amelia. That the princess went adventuring was common knowledge in the region. They seemed to sense that they were not safe yet. Then one of the bandits spotted Lina and Gourry. Pandemonium reined for several minutes as they attempted to flee the legendary bandit slayers. The heroes rounded up the thugs, save for one rude fool who'd seen fit to make derisive comments about her bust. Lina figured he'd be landing in a few minutes, somewhere far away from beautiful but petite sorceresses.

Brief questioning gained them a few tidbits of knowledge: the bandits had been setting up to ambush a monthly trade caravan, counting on the recent unrest in Seyruun to get away with it. As they'd been setting up, a guy in green clothes blundered – literally – into their setup and had stomped them hard. The bandits had run, and this bunch had the supreme misfortune to charge right at the heroes.

In the middle of their rant, a young man in slightly ragged green clothing walked up. He was paying rapt attention to the road, as if it would run away if he didn't. He almost walked into Gourry before looking up. "Uh, hi." At the sound of his voice, the bandits started screaming again, a few of them running. Lina let them run, curious.

"Who're you?" she asked.

"Ryoga Hibiki." He looked at the few bandits still seated, frozen in fear, smirking slightly. "These guys didn't get far."

"We like beating up bandits too." The captive bandits cringed at the sight of so many predatory smiles. Even Amelia's was taking on a slightly wolfish aspect. Lina introduced the others, then asked, "So what's your story, stranger?"

Ryoga laughed, a bitter sound. "It's a long one. Let's just say for now that I've had a really, really bad month."

Glances flew around their little group. Xellos and Martina had caught up, the priest eyeing the newcomer with a bemused expression, Martina with an expression of frank curiosity. The green haired noblewoman muttered, "The strangest things happen around them."

-------------

In the end, they let the bandits go. Noble though the idea of wiping all bandits out might be, it was a) probably impossible and b) not terribly profitable in the long run. Convincing Amelia to go along with it took some doing but they managed. Crusaders for justice were suckers for second chances. Looting the bandit camp for supplies and cash had taken little longer. Sorting the loot took a bit of time.

Partway through the sorting, Ryoga wandered over to where Lina was sorting through a small stack of gems, looking for the good ones. He plopped down a heavy, iron-bound chest and sat on it. "You said your name was Lina Inverse, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Did you ever work with a sorceress named Naga the Serpent?"

Lina flinched.

"I guess that's a yes."

"Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "Ran into her a couple weeks ago. She said you were her sidekick. I was just wonderin' if you were the same person." Another shrug.

"She said _I_ was _her_ sidekick?" A growl. "The nerve of that pompous, idiotic..."

Ryoga backed away quickly. "I didn't believe her about that bit. The innkeeper said you were the boss of the team."

Lina nodded, still irritated. "It's a good thing you listened to him." She went back to muttering as she sorted gems.

------------

They wound up sorting loot for most of the day. It had been a while since they'd gotten a good haul of loot, and everyone had gotten into the fun of sorting. Amusingly to the others, Martina had found some baubles she'd tried to force onto Xellos, 'To replace those talismans you sold that awful Lina.' Shows of affection seemed to physically hurt the strange priest.

The haul had taken some sorting – it had clearly been a while since the thieves had been to a fence so there was a lot to sort through – and they would, by necessity, be leaving a fair bit of treasure behind, but they had the lion's share of the valuable stuff stashed in various pouches, backpacks, and Bags of Holding. It was a cheerful group that gathered around the campfire that night, sharing tales and enjoying some genuinely top quality booze the bandits had captured. They'd clearly been saving it for a special occasion. The heroes unanimously decided that the bandit's defeat qualified.

After a time, the conversation turned to talk of rivals. Gourry told Ryoga of Zangulus the swordsman, how they'd met him and how the two swordsmen had battled in Copy Rezo's lair. Ryoga had scoffed, stated that he had a _true_ rival, and spun a tale about another young man. Ranma Saotome was the other man's name, and if half the stuff Ryoga was saying about him was true, he was a dangerous, nasty sort, if a bit petty. Stealing bread did not rate high on any scale beyond a personal one, though this Ranma's persistent opposition of Ryoga over the years spoke of dedication and elevating rivalry to an art form. He went on to speak of Ranma's amorous nature, which was somewhat interesting to Lina, though only in a general 'taking exception on behalf of other women' way, not something she did much. Amelia listened with great attention, muttering about how foul someone would have to be to do such a thing.

After a while, Xellos stood and started to walk towards the woods. "Where are you going?" asked Martina.

He turned and gave his trademark smirk. "That.. is a secret. I won't be long." He walked into the twilight. Martina followed after a moment, drawing an annoyed sound from Xellos and amusement from the others. They didn't trust him, but he had information that could be useful.

The talk of rivals and the earlier mention brought Lina's mind back to Naga. Gods, it had been the better part of two years since she'd last seen that madwoman. She'd done her best to lose the sorceress' trail and had succeeded. Continuing to avoid Naga could only be good for her continued sanity.

A thought occurred. "Ryoga... you said you ran into Naga the Serpent a few weeks ago?"

He looked up. "Yeah, why?"

"Do you remember where?"

"Not really. I'm really bad with finding places."

"Fair enough. Did she say anything about where she was going?"

Ryoga thought back. It hadn't been all that long a time, but it had been eventful. "I think she mentioned heading towards a place called Seyruun."

Lina froze, all colour draining from her face. If Naga'd been heading for Seyruun two weeks ago... she could still be in the area. Oh gods and monsters...

Gourry frowned at her. "Lina? You okay?"

Lina could not respond, so great was her horror. The others gathered around, concerned. Of the group, only Zelgadiss knew of Naga, and only by reputation.

Finally, Lina recovered use of her voice. "We need to leave the area. Now. Horrors lurk nearby." For a few moments, everyone's expressions were of confusion. She lept to her feet, shrieking, "Now! We need to run!" She took off quickly, grabbing her pack at the run. The others exchanged glances and decided that anything getting Lina Inverse that worked up was worth avoiding. They followed.

"What's wrong?" asked Zelgadiss when he drew even with her running form.

"Can't talk. Have to run."

"Is this likely to blow up around us?" asked Ryoga, a step behind.

"Yes. Must keep going, must get away from the danger!"

Ahead, the trees gave way to a field of scree and boulders. Ryoga put on a burst of speed, drove ahead. Lina was preparing to use a Ray Wing spell to fly over the rocks when he barrelled into – then through – a wagon-sized rock. He continued to break trail, eyes darting all directions in search of whatever threat they were reacting to. Lina and the others kept close to him – he was making a damned fine path, and without using magic, which would make it harder for whatever might be after them to track them.

It took them half a minute to realize they'd suddenly found themselves atop a grassy hill, surrounded by rolling fields as far as the eye could see.

-------------

Xellos had hoped to make his report quickly, but that damnable annoyance Martina following him had put a crimp in that plan. He'd wasted precious minutes losing her. He could not reveal his nature yet, nor could he just kill the woman, tempted though he was to do so.

Finally, he managed to find enough privacy to make contact with the Hellmaster. Phibrizzo had given him instructions to guide Inverse to him, and to make sure no unpredictable elements or wild cards interfered with his plans. A man from another world arriving could be one such wild card, though at first glance this Ryoga Hibiki did not seem powerful enough to be dangerous. Still, he had his orders, and Inverse could be unpredictable. Any wild card could prove disruptive at this stage.

He managed to avoid running into Martina again as he made his way back to the ransacked bandit hideout. Then things hit a snag. They were gone. A quick scrying spell confirmed it. The false priest swallowed hard. Hellmaster Phibrizzo was not an understanding and enlightened employer. He was not going to like this, any more than Xellos was going to enjoy reporting it.


	17. Chapter 17

_Disclaimer: I own none of the 'verses this meanders through, am doing this entirely for my own amusement, and am far, far too poor to be worth suing._

-Chapter 17-

Dave Lister yawned hugely as he tidied himself up.

He was normally unashamed to be a slob, but under the circumstances – on nice ship full of nice ladies, and with these wonderful 'replicators' to make stuff with – he'd been investing a little time each morning in making himself look somewhat less like a ball of smeg scraped off a bootsole.

It had paid off somewhat, he was making a few friends and generally having a decent time, though that was hampered a bit by the fact that everyone wanted him to help keep Rimmer and Cat in line. Showin' up on the bridge in uniform. He wasn't surprised that Rimmer had done something that smeggin' stupid, but damned if it wasn't inconvenient. Lister was debating just disabling his light bee and avoiding the problem until they parted ways with _Voyager_ again.

Of course, if he turned Rimmer off, he'd likely 'forget' to turn him back on again. Technically, with Cat and Kryten around, Holly's reason to turn Rimmer on – keeping him company so he didn't go insane – didn't apply any longer. But the smeghead did, on occasion, have his uses. If nothing else, he was frequently amusing. Besides, the ship's doc was a hologram. These people probably had some strong ideas about holographic rights.

He was still amazed at the tech of this ship. Hell, it managed to get all the stains out of his clothing, something Kryten had despaired of for years now. It wasn't quite perfect, mind. The replicators refused to make a properly spicy curry. Something about 'unacceptable toxin levels' in the recipe that Lister carefully entered into the machine's database thingy. Simply amazin' how ignorant of good cooking a computer could be.

An' they didn't even have the supplies back on the Bug to make a proper curry either. He was going to be stuck with inferior curry until they got back to Earth. W' those replicators around, there was no chance there'd be a proper kitchen here.

"'Alf a mo'..." he muttered aloud. Didn't he hear one of the crew mention them not having enough power for replicating everything back in the day? Yeah, they did, and they mentioned that a kitchen had been built in the ship's mess. He wondered if the cooking gear was still there. If it was, he could probably get the replicators to cough up ingredients, and even if he couldn't, there were some spices back on the Bug, just no meat.

"Computer. Izzat kitchen in t' mess still workin'?"

"Affirmative."

"Smeggin' great. Meet you down there."

-------------

Lieutenant Carey walked into the ship's mess, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. The Chief was even more irritable than usual since they'd left the Badlands, and she'd taken it out on Gamma Shift last night when she dropped in for a surprise visit. This in turn had set off a few of his people, which had brought forth a titanic headache that had settled from his head into his neck and shoulders. Torres had muttered a quiet sorry when she turned up, half an hour late, for her own shift, but it hadn't helped much.

He was, understandably, in a bad mood. He knew from past experience that if he'd just gone back to his quarters all he'd have succeeded in doing would be to stew in his own bad temper for a while, and he'd wind up being just as nasty to his shift as Torres was being. Conversation and some socializing would take the edge off, and with a little luck he'd be levelheaded enough to keep his shift in line tonight without blowing his top.

He barely registered the scent of food cooking at first. It had become less common in the last few years, as they'd managed to deal with their energy problems enough that they had more replicator rations to go around, but it was still one associated with the mess. Nelix had become almost passable with human cooking and had become slightly less 'creative' when he was doing it, much to the relief of all.

It was the sharp tang of spice in the air that caught Carey's attention, a tang of spice far more potent than typified Nelix's works. Halfway to a replicator and preparing to get some Raktajino, he paused, turned towards the counter at the edge of the makeshift galley. Steam rose from a number of ceramic dishes set on the countertop, each full of something and with ladles stuck in them. A Science division officer was loading a plate with rice, then ladling a thick, brown sauce over it.

Over the general buzz of conversation in the mess hall, he could hear the thick and distinctive souse accent of Dave Lister, emitting from the galley. This would likely be interesting. Desire for caffeine momentarily pushed aside, he walked to the counter, grabbing a plate off a small stack and surveyed the food before him.

The first step was easy: everything else looked like a sauce of some sort, so he started with a generous helping of rice. Then came the choice of a sauce. There were three to chose from, each marked. The one marked 'Curry' was the one with the least left in the pot, next to it was a thicker sauce with bits of what looked like chicken in it, marked 'Jalfrezi.' Beside that was 'Lamb Vindaloo,' which was nearly untouched. It also smelled the most potent.

"Mornin' Carey," said Lister as he walked up to the counter, a small pot in hand. He used the pot to top up the dish marked 'Curry.'

"Good morning, Lister. What's this?"

"Figured I'd make a contribution. You're replicators won't make a proper curry, but they will make most of the bits. Figured I'd do some up t' make life interestin' for ya." He shrugged. "'sides, 'ts been a while since I did some cookin.' Kryters does most o' that back on t' Bug."

Carey was somewhat impressed, looking the galley over again. No-one in his immediate family had been big on home cooking, so the business was largely arcane to him but there seemed to be a lot of stuff there to go into it. "So you figured you'd have some fun?"

"Yeah, though I gotta say, 'm not tha' impressed wi' your shipmates. They're stickin' to the weak stuff." He gestured at the pots of Curry and Jalfrezi.

"Well, this stuff smells a lot spicier than what we're used to. And some of 'em hit the middle one."

Lister shrugged. "I suppose. Still, I hate to see the good stuff go to waste." He shook his head. "'s not like I made anythin' dangerously spicy. The computer flat refused to give me t' right peppers for Phaal."

There'd been a note of challenge in his tone. Carey knew better than to let that bother him, but after last night he wasn't in the mood. And he wasn't exactly afraid of spicy food, having grown up on a fair bit of it. Besides, he liked lamb, and he was hungry. "Well, I'll save a bit of this stuff, then." He spooned up some of the lamb Vindaloo and exchanged nods with the Englishman, headed for a table.

A few of his fellow engineers waved him over. "Hey, LT. Finally got out of there?"

"The Chief was a bit late getting in. It's no big deal." He settled into an offered chair. "Any of you guys had this stuff before?"

"Not since before I got assigned to _Voyager_. It's not bad, and this guy is decent enough at making it." James took a drink before continuing. "I think you'll like that stuff, boss."

"Some Synthahol helps it go down easier," said Chell in a helpful tone.

Carey thought for a moment. "It's a little early in the day for me." He took a hefty forkful of Vindaloo and rice. This was interestin- He gagged and coughed.

Years ago, back in the Academy, he'd foolishly taken a dare to try and eat a whole jalapeño pepper. It had been agony, but he'd managed, and the reward from the bet had been worth it, or so he'd reasoned with the cocky nature of the nineteen-year-old he'd been at the time. This stuff made that seem like a glass of milk in comparison. His mouth felt like he'd tried a swig of raw plasma. "Holy..." he croaked, prompting a round of amused laughter from his fellow engineers.

"Sure you don't want that Synthahol?"

He coughed. "Oh, shut up and pass it over."

------------

Hours later, Nelix and Lister were cleaning up the galley. The Talaxian had been less than impressed at someone taking over his kitchen initially, but after gauging the crew's reactions, he'd decided to not make a big deal out of it, and had helped Lister cook for a while, incidentally picking up a few recipes. Interesting stuff, these 'curries.' His chef's mind was already mentally tinkering with the recipes, and some ways to improve them.

He was glad to have had the help, truth to tell. For all they were hopeful – for all this should be the last leg of their long trip home – _Voyager_'s crew was wary. Too many times in the past had they had hopes dashed at the last moment, and they were trying to keep from getting their hopes up to avoid another heartbreak. This time, though, they were so close he knew they were having trouble staying objective about the situation. Having help from another to deal with the potential morale problems was heartening, though ideally, this plan would work and the problems would never happen.

This would have to work, when they got down to it. This close to home, the Starfleet and Maquis crew were on a knife's edge. So close to their home, and so far from his own. Nelix suppressed the thought. He'd decided a long time ago that he'd fully thrown in his lot with _Voyager_. He'd cut his ties with Talax years ago, before he'd even met Kes, to say nothing of _Voyager_ itself. Objectively, he knew this was well past the point of no return for himself, but... he felt like he was walking that same knife's edge.

-------------

The _Voyager_ was perhaps six hours from the Bajoran system now. They'd moved up to Yellow Alert, and were preparing for what they hoped would be the last stop on their trip home. Captain Janeway had her department heads getting everything into readiness. There would be a staff meeting in half an hour while they finalized the plan.

Worf had proved useful again in this, supplying information on the initial instance of crossover, including data that would allow them to approximate the changes to their warp field to simulate the circumstances of the _Rio Grande_'s ill fated warp-driven passage through the Wormhole all those years ago.

From Captain Picard they had learned that the resistance still controlled Terok Nor as it hovered in orbit of Bajor, the station surviving by using the civilians on the planet below as a shield – any attempt to dislodge them from it, and the station responded by blasting ground targets from orbit. It was not a tactic Picard approved of, one of several reasons _Stargazer_ was not based there. The Alliance kept a strong blockade in place, one powerful enough to make any attempt to run the guns dicey at best. Publicly that blockading fleet was the reason he avoided Terok Nor – the bombardments were an official policy and the Resistance had enough problems without dissension in the ranks.

He had given them a frequency to transmit on to request aid from the station, though Picard had not been sure if they would get it. They weren't planning around having it, helpful though it would be.

Janeway suppressed a yawn as she went through the readiness reports that were starting to come in, preparing for the meeting to come. Eating in the mess today had been a mistake. Mark that, eating what the small group of widely grinning crewmen had recommended without asking what it actually _was_ had been a mistake. In the unsettled state her stomach was in already, adding coffee to the mix would be a bad idea. She'd finished the plate, if only to maintain her reputation as Captain, but she'd vowed then and there to never eat Vindaloo again.

Truth to tell, even without overly-spicy food, she'd be having stomach trouble right now. They were so close now. So close, and yet with so many possible complications. Torres hadn't been sure she would be able to reproduce the effects of the partially collapsed warp field with their own engines. Even if it did, she was sure the warp drive would not be able to function as a proper warp drive once they switched it over to making the modified warp field..

There were so many ways this could go wrong. Running a blockade at Bajor was a daunting idea, after seeing the Resistance's estimates of forces available there. Oh, it wasn't a patch on the risks they'd taken crossing Borg space, perhaps, but for all a dozen Klingon and Cardassian warships were, objectively, less deadly than a Borg cube, they would be more than enough to beat _Voyager_ in any kind of straight fight, even if she were healthy. Even with continuous repairs and additional reinforcements, the patch in her lower hull meant _Voyager_ was running at a disadvantage.

Janeway was worried about that repair. That first, mighty creak had scared her, and for all they'd patched it to the best of their ability and reinforced the structural integrity fields, she still started awake at night thinking she'd heard another. They couldn't run the ship flat-out without risking tearing her apart at this point, and if everything went to hell they couldn't outrun pursuit because of it.

She wished to hell she'd thought to trade for a cloaking device when they'd been at the Resistance base. Any advantage would be welcome just now.

_If wishes were horses... _she thought, a rueful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She shook her head, returned her concentration to the reports. She would be ready for the meeting. She just hoped they would be able to find a solution.

--------------

"Using the information provided by Lieutenant Commander Worf, we have created a way for our warp drive to simulate the unusual, partial field that allowed the Runabout _Rio Grande _to, for lack of a better term, rediscover this dimension on Stardate 47879.2." Seven of Nine's voice disguised moderate irritation. Many of the Bajoran crewmembers were treating this like some kind of religious experience; to enter the Celestial Temple. They'd wanted to know what she and Torres were planning to do to the home of their gods. She did not understand religion, but she hated what it did to some people.

"How quickly will we be able to switch from regular warp drive to this?" The Captain was all business, refreshing after dealing with so many emotional Bajorans.

Torres answered, "Fifteen seconds to reconfigure the emitters and establish the modified warp field. Assuming our co-ordinates for the Wormhole are correct," she glanced to Lieutenant Paris, who nodded, "We can make it from warp to entering the Wormhole in about twenty seconds."

Paris looked thoughtful for a moment, as if mentally going over a possible course, then nodded again, firmly.

"Once we're through the Wormhole," began Chakotay, "How long will it take to return the warp drive to normal operation?"

Torres tossed Seven a look, as though expecting her to swoop in and answer the question. Mentally sighing, Seven did so; adding another tick to the tally of things B'Elanna owed her for. "We are unsure at this time. There are several factors involved in this transit that may or may not cause drive damage or other complications. Not the least of them is enemy action."

As if she had suddenly recovered her voice, Torres said, "Best case, we can do it in about thirty seconds, though given the amount of power we'll be shunting around to pull this off, we're probably going to need to give the EPS relays a minute or so to cool down before re-engaging the Warp drive."

"That sounds... reasonable, I suppose." The captain was thoughtful as she considered that.

Tom Paris frowned, then spoke. "Uh, I know a minute and a half isn't that long, but what happens if we pop out in front of some Dominion ships, uh, Jemhader?"

The gathered officers turned towards Worf, who had been silent thus far during the meeting. "The Jem'Hadar are the shock troopers of the Dominion. They are utterly dedicated to their masters and are gifted warriors. They have three types of starship, all dedicated warships and thus extremely well armed for their mass. The smaller of the two would be best classified as a frigate, smaller and slightly lower in mass than a _Defiant_-class starship and mounting roughly equivalent firepower to an _Intrepid_-class starship." A small rumble of unease went around the room at that. Seven of Nine shared it despite herself; the Borg had never encountered them and thus she knew nothing of them.

The Klingon continued, "Their larger ship classes are generally referred to as Battle-Cruiser and Battleship respectively. Either of those types can take on a _Galaxy_-class starship in a ship-to-ship duel with a very high chance of victory." The Klingon paused as _Voyager_'s senior staff descended into grumbles and unease at his comments. "Meaning no disrespect to what you have accomplished on this ship, an _Intrepid_-class starship is no match for them."

Chakotay broke the silence. "Then we'll have to hope we don't run into any of them."

"Wish we'd gotten a cloaking device out of the Resistance," muttered Tom.

"Enough. We need to be ready. Let's go over our contingency plans again."

----------------------------

Lina Inverse flew over the wide, grassy plains, one hand shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun off a broad lake. Here and there, farms dotted the land below, a small village at the edge of the lake, but nothing nearby that looked like a big city. There was a haze on the horizon that might have been a settlement, but it was much too far away to properly tell.

There was magic in this world, old, powerful, and fell. She had easily tapped it for her Ray Wing spell, and was sure she'd be able to use most of her black-magic. She couldn't feel her connection to the mazoku spirits that powered some of the more powerful spells, like Gaav Flare, or the Dragon Slave. The link to the Lord of Nightmares was still there, and Lina took some comfort that at least this world was connected to hers via the Sea of Chaos. Theoretically, there would be a way home via that route, though it would _not_ be a fun one.

Lina flew back to the group, still encamped on the hilltop where they'd first arrived on this world. She returned Zelgadiss' wave and touched down. "See anything, Lina?"

"A possible caravan road, no traffic that I saw, and what might have been a city way off to the east. Nothing in the area, though." She accepted a proffered chunk of jerky from Gourry. It had been a long flight. "A lot of power floating around, though."

Zel nodded his agreement. "My impression as well. I've taken some time to commune with the local spirits. They seemed amused that they were being asked rather than just told to do something. The ones I contacted told me a little about this place. The locals are a bunch of tribes called the 'Barghast' and they call this land Genabackis."

"They must be nice folks," muttered Gourry. He was less than comfortable with the situation, and Lina couldn't blame him. This was screwier than usual for their adventures.

Amelia said, "We should get moving again. I don't think this place is safe."

Sitting where they'd left him, amidst a lattice of spells, Ryoga said, "Well, if you let me _out_ of this, I can try and get us somewhere else."

"That reminds me. Have those scans given us any data?" Lina had helped Zelgadiss form the scrying lattice before she'd flown off on reconnaissance.

"There's two distinct curses on him." Zel turned back towards their subject. "One is the thing that sent us wherever the hell here is, and the other one seems to be some kind of transformation curse."

"Transformation? What to?"

"We haven't tried to trigger it yet, still trying to figure out the teleportation one." Zel shrugged. "It's a fascinating little spell, actually. I'd love to meet the guy who crafted this teleportation curse, he was a master."

"Is there a way to control it?"

Amelia shrugged. "Not that we can see. It really is a clever spell, and totally isolated from the other curse."

"So the only thing we could do is let him out and follow him some more?"

Zelgadiss nodded, looking glum. "He claims that it doesn't kick in as often when he's following someone else. I'd give a lot to get him into a decent Atelier, but with us in the middle of nowhere, that's not really an option."

"Yeah. Still, we can probably get at least some data out of just leaving him in our lattice."

Ryoga muttered something uncharitable about people talking about him like he wasn't there.

"I'm wondering about the transformation curse," said Amelia. "There's not a whole lot of power involved, but it might be interesting to check it out."

Ryoga groaned. "Do you have to poke and prod at everything? You could just ask me about it."

Lina's smile had some fang in it. "Where's the fun in that?"

Ryoga sighed. "The transformation curse was caused by Ranma at a place called Jusenkyo. Cold water triggers the transformation; hot water changes me back."

"Really? What do you turn into?"

Ryoga hesitated. He didn't want to answer this. But given how happily they'd been experimenting so far, and not caring that their 'lattice' actually hurt him if he touched the glowing lines, if he didn't just tell them, he'd probably get soaked anyway.

Apparently he took too long to decide. Muttering a short spell, Amelia created a bubble of cold water that dropped onto him. With an irritated grunt, the small black pig worked his way loose of the green clothes.

Amelia's reaction was immediate. "Oh! He's so _cute_!" Reaching through the lattice, she grabbed Ryoga and gave the transformed youth a big hug.

"She is aware that that was a boy a few seconds ago, right?" Lina was shaking her head. She did not get that girl, sometimes.

"I think the cute overrode her brain," muttered Zelgadiss.

Gourry just chuckled for a moment, then paused. "Wait a minute... do you guys hear something?" He stood, drawing the Sword of Light and turning, eyes scanning the surrounding plains.

Lina looked around, a weight settling in her stomach. Something _was_ coming, something dark and powerful. Gourry swore, pointed.

From over a hill perhaps a hundred yards away, a creature charged. Over three times the height of a man, broad of shoulder and long of arm, it looked like an oversized lizardman. Or what a lizardman would look like after decades sealed in some dark, dry tomb. Desiccated flesh clung to its limbs and body, covered in patchwork armor and carrying twin black iron swords. It was amazingly fast, long legs devouring the ground below it as it charged. Lina snapped off a fireball, misjudged the creatures speed and set fire to the grass behind it.

The undead creature – whatever it was – charged straight for her with a speed that was as terrifying as its empty-eyed visage. A detached corner of her mind registered that it was not holding the two blackened iron blades – rather they seemed fused to the creatures wrists in some macabre parody of hands. The Sword of Light swung in like steel lightning, parrying the first blade away from her body and directing it into the turf. Lina lept skyward, trying to get out of the monster's reach as it shifted its attentions to Gourry, who moved in a blur, sword licking out to counter the strange creature's attacks and trying to draw it away from the others. Skilled though he was with a blade, this opponent's massive reach and physical power was driving him back, sparks flying as enchanted steel met iron.

Amelia dropped the small black pig that had been Ryoga, screaming in surprise at the sudden assault. Before she recovered herself, Zel blasted the creature with an Elmekia Lance that slowed the undead for a moment, giving Gourry a chance to dance back out of its reach. The creature turned on Zelgadiss, inhuman speed and reach letting it close with the chimera with terrifying suddenness. A blow from its bladed arm sent Zel flying, to crash down at the base of the hill in an unconscious heap. Before it could follow up on that attack, Lina hit it with a Fireball, this one striking it cleanly. As the blast faded, Gourry lept onto the creature's back, Sword of Light stabbing into desiccated flesh as the swordsman sought to sever its spine.

Either he misjudged the creature's anatomy, or the spells animating it cared not for such trivialities as that, but the creature did not fall. It reared back, bladed arms seeking to skewer the blonde swordsman, who hung on for dear life. Lina dropped to the ground beside the still form of Zelgadiss, to shield him, or get him out of the way, if needed. As she did, she heard Amelia begin to cast a spell.

"Dwelling within the eternal and the infinite

Source of all souls Everlasting flame of blue

Let the power hidden in my soul

Be called forth from the Infinite...

_RA TILT!"_

A wreath of blue flame flared around the creature, a darker blue then Lina was used to for that spell, but it definitely had the usual effect. Gourry jumped clear, leaving his sword stuck into the creature's back. Writhing in silent agony, the undead monster turned halfway around to Amelia before the energies animating it succumbed against the shamanic magic. It collapsed onto its front, seeming to sag into the knee-high grass. For a long moment, none of them moved. Then Zelgadiss moaned, tried to pick himself up. Lina helped the chimera to his feet.

"What.. was that thing?"

"I have no idea."

Gourry stepped onto its broad back, worked the Sword of Light loose. "Whatever it is, it's stopped." He glanced around. "Can we get out of here before its friends show up?"

"I agree. Where'd the pig go?"

A brief search saw that Ryoga had retreated to within the lattice of spells they'd earlier created, perhaps hoping they could protect him. A quick conjuration of hot water later, and he dressed with a speed of long practice. "Thanks. Time to go, then?"

"Oh, yes," said Lina. "We'll figure out what makes that curse tick once we're someplace safe."

------------------------------------

"Admiral Harlaown!"  
Chrono looked up from the tactical board to the sensors. "Keep going on that diagnostic. I'll want to review your report later." He strode across the bridge to the sensor station. "What do you have?"  
"The disaster we're looking for." The display shifted to a view of a dull black-and-grey oblong that rotated slowly. "Midsized asteroid, approximately twenty-seven point six cubic kilometers in size. Composition looks like mostly nickel-iron and assorted dross. It's coming in on a long course from above the plane of the ecliptic and if my calculations are correct will collide with Earth in roughly eleven years, four months."  
Chrono looked over the calculations. The numbers looked to match. A glance over his shoulder showed that Setsuna was walking towards the sensor stations. "That's certainly a disaster in potentia. Is this the rock you were mentioning, Ma'am?"

The Senshi of Time looked at the image on the floating screen and nodded. "I believe so. There should be some kind of ward on it, shielding it from direct offensive spells."

Chrono glanced to the sensor operator. "Seeing anything like that?"

The younger man's hands danced across the console for a long moment. "Yes, Admiral. The composition is strange, but it's definitely a defensive ward. I think we can work out a way around it; or possibly overpower it."  
Chrono thought for a long moment. "Alright. File this, and squirt a copy of the composition and your analysis of those wards to Tactical. Then send the location to Navigation." He pitched his voice to carry. "I need to report this to HQ, but I fully expect that we'll be sortieing to deal with this. I'll expect a course and fire mission ready soonest."  
"Aye, Admiral."  
Chrono returned to the command chair and punched up a priority report. They'd be removing this potential disaster shortly.

--------------

If Ami had been cheerful to have a chance to study a living, breathing cyborg, she was all but orgasmic on the _Claudia_'s bridge. The blue-haired Senshi was scanning away like mad, asking questions at a fever pace. The marine who'd been assigned as their escort while aboard ship was answering them to the best of her ability, but was having trouble keeping up and was looking a little frazzled.

Usagi stood in the centre of their little group, eyes wide as she tried to take everything in. She didn't even pretend to understand half of what she could see, but it was still amazing. They hadn't known what to expect of a magic ship, but they'd all more or less agreed that it wasn't this. But honestly, she wasn't really looking at the ship around them. The conversation back at the shrine had woken some memories within, and the spirit of her past self.

She was unsure of those memories. They were alien to her, and yet... they _felt_ real. A life in a different culture, where she had been raised to rule. She was noticing things in the here and now, things she normally would have ignored, with little mental comments that made her wonder just how far below the surface those memories of a past life were.

--------------

They'd gotten their orders not a quarter-hour before, to deal with the asteroid. The Admiral had explained that his asking had been at least half formality, that he'd been certain that he'd be given the order to proceed. "This lets the desk-warmers back in Headquarters think we listen to them, which generally keeps them out of our hair."

Setsuna Meioh looked at the black rock in the monitors. She was not sure what she felt at this point. She'd spent generations dedicated to planning a recovery from the damage this asteroid would do; generations planning the second rise of the Moon Kingdom and the ascension of herself and the other Senshi. She was fairly confident that destroying this asteroid would prevent the Great Freeze. That would, in turn, eliminate the need for Crystal Tokyo.

The plan she'd dedicated several lifetimes to was about to get shot right in the head, with her consent.

It would have been stranger if she'd been entirely happy with the situation, she supposed. She was, after all, only human. Still, this plan was going to be a lot better for the average citizen of Earth than the last one, at least as far as saving lives was concerned.

The sensor operator had spent most of their journey to the rock studying the wards on it. Looking them over, Setsuna suspected they constituted Metallia's last 'gift' to the Senshi. The wards were powerful and complicated, but she was impressed by the skill in analysis and general competence shown by these 'TSAB' people. She could do worse for allies.

Finally, they'd reached the asteroid. The wards had been deciphered; the _Claudia_ was powering up a magitech weapon called an 'Arc En Ciel,' and, in an action so smooth it was practically an anticlimax, destroyed the asteroid in a single blast. As she watched the asteroid reduced to gravel, Setsuna felt a knot of tension undo itself within her; a knot that had been there so long she'd forgotten it even existed. She sighed with quiet relief. This had not been her plan. But it was, in many ways, better than the alternative.

"I envy you your resources, Admiral," she said quietly.

"I envy you your determination. It takes a lot to plan to fight a hopeless battle, and more to stand aside when someone derails your plan. Pride is hard to conquer, and I salute you." Chrono's reply was soft, and the Senshi of Time thought she heard a hint of memory in it. She doubted anyone else on the bridge had even heard him speak. He offered a hand, which she shook.

Eyes watering with tears of joy, she turned from the display, walked to rejoin the other Senshi. "Are you okay?" asked Michiru.

Setsuna took a moment to dry her eyes. "I think I am. This has been a good day."

--------------

Usagi was still trying to sort things out when they got back to the bridge.

Shortly after the asteroid was destroyed, she and the others were rejoined by Subaru and Teana, who'd had to get some reports done when they'd come aboard. They'd agreed to spell the frazzled marine as the Senshi's guard/guide, and with the permission of the Admiral, had offered to give them a tour of the capital ship.

Usagi had been impressed by what they'd seen, by the people here. These people, who for the most part didn't know them from Eve, simply accepted that they were Magical Girls. Several thought it was kinda cool, that Earth had produced so large a team of them. These people just accepted them at face value. Unlike their fans back home, they didn't want to get millions of details of their love lives or favourite foods or whatever. Calm acceptance was a new thing for the Senshi, and they rather liked it.

They'd finished the tour now, and were back on the bridge. The _Claudia_ was en route back to Earth, taking a slightly scenic course to let the Inners get a look at their respective worlds from space. Usagi was feeling more introspective than normal, mulling over the events of the last week or so and what would happen now.

Usagi drifted around the bridge, lost in thought. She didn't realize she'd moved next to the command chair until Chrono spoke up. "Penny for your thoughts?"

The blonde senshi jumped slightly. "Sorry, I lost track of where I was going." She thought for a moment. "Just trying to figure out what we're going to do now." She shrugged. "All this... it kinda puts into perspective that we can't do everything ourselves." A smile tugged at her lips. "I don't suppose you could help us or give some advice or something?"

The Admiral smiled. "I can think of a few things that might help. The best I can think of is to introduce you to a few... organizations on Earth who also protect the ordinary people from the supernatural."

"Thank you, that would certainly help." Behind her, the other Senshi, perhaps sensing that something important was happening, began to drift over.

"And the second thing..." The smile widened. "I can offer you some training for your magical gifts." At her confused look, he continued. "You have a lot of potential power, but from what we can see, you don't make the best use of it, in terms of tactics as well as spells. We can help you. We have a lot of experience turning good mages into great ones."

Usagi nodded slowly, memories of previous battles playing through her mind's eye; now scrutinized by her past self's veteran gaze. He had a point. A glance told her that the others were doing similar mental exercises, and while some were unhappy with the idea, they realized it was true. She silently polled her friend's faces, finishing with Usa's. Her daughter's expression, clouded and lost for the last several days, was showing some of its normal impish joy. She turned back to the Admiral. "We would be honoured to learn from your people."

The others nodded in agreement, though Haruka, Rei, and Makoto's expressions had a hint of displeasure. They did not enjoy admitting a need for any kind of help. Suddenly, Usa's eyes unfocused, her slight smile turning into an O of surprise as she gasped for breath. Usagi was at her side instantly. "What is it?"

Eyes still unfocused, Usa's reply was quiet. "The future just steadied. It's been getting more stable for a few hours, but it just settled down. I'm getting new memories."

All eyes but hers went to Setsuna. The Senshi of Time shook her head. "I'd need to check the gates..."

Before she could continue, Usa giggled, then the giggle turned into a laugh. "Oh, you guys are gonna _like_ this future! It's so much nicer than the last one." She lept at Usagi, wrapping her tight in a hug. "You especially, momma."

Confusedly, Usagi returned the hug, though with a smile of her own. Whatever had put the life and joy back into Chibi-Usa was, in her opinion, a good thing. "I'm glad you're fine again."

"Me too!" she replied with a laugh, hug growing tighter- there was unexpected strength in her little arms. In a whisper that Usagi was sure didn't carry to the others as they stood with relieved smiles, Usa continued. "This time, seven billion people don't have to die."

------------

It was hours later. Usagi and Chibi-Usa were getting ready for the night, when Usagi asked her daughter the question that had been burning in the back of her mind for hours.

"Usa, back on the ship... you said something about your memories shifting. When the future changed, right?"

"Right."

"So if the future's change involved the asteroid... wouldn't the change have happened when they blew it up, not a while after?"

"You're two for two, momma." There was a definite urchin's grin there.

"So... it wasn't just the asteroid throwing everything into flux, was it? There was some other problem to come that we weren't going to be able to fix alone, wasn't there?"

"Uh-huh."

"So... what is it?"

Chibi-Usa smiled an impish smile. "Uh-uh, not gonna tell you. That would ruin the fun."


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's Note: first, sorry this took so long. New job is kicking my ass, and the dreaded Writers Block has reared it's ugly, malformed head. Hopefully I've gotten through that, and should be able to keep going in good order. As always, I own none of the worlds this pops through, this is intended as tribute and generalized amusement, and I'm way too poor to be worth suing._

-Chapter 18-

It was unnaturally quiet on the bridge of the _Lanrok. _The _Keldon_-class warship's crew was not normally given to silence, but normally, the _Lanrok_ wasn't carrying an agent of the Obsidian Order. They did not know this Dukat's proper rank, but their commander, Gul Madred, was giving him a wide berth. The crew'd been trying to figure out who they'd pissed off to gain the attention of an Order operative, but had come up blank.

Dukat was aware of their fevered discussions about him, but he didn't particularly care. Let them talk. Dukat was no wide-eyed idealist, nor was he a fool. He wasn't here to investigate the crew, and so long as no-one started calling for insurrection in the ship's mess, he was prepared to ignore their rumblings. He cared nothing for politics; governments rose and fell, Cardassia would be forever so long as her sons defended her.

If nothing else, listening to them wonder just what had drawn official displeasure was amusing. A few had guessed that he wasn't there to keep tabs on them at all; guessing that he was there because of their sudden were assignment to the Terok Nor blockade. That had been part of it, but only a part. He cared neither for the Resistance nor Bajor – he'd rushed out here when Central Command had learned that a ship from the Mirror Universe was in the region, heading for Bajor. If possible, he was to stop that ship; weather it intended to try and break the blockade, or simply pass through. The only time that a ship had managed to come through from the other side had been in the Bajoran system, and it had escaped there as well.

He'd been gratified to learn that his instincts were good: one of his moles in the Resistance had passed along word that this _Voyager_ was heading for Bajor – planning to make their escape. He was interested in learning how they planned to do that, if for no other reason than to have a plan in place if their universe decided to attack them on a large scale.

Truth to tell, he was tempted to make his way into that universe to eliminate his counterpart there. That Dukat was a simpering, politically motivated officer who had turned his coat at least once to curry favour with the government. On multiple occasions he'd involved himself in conspiracies to try and make political points, possibly trying to generate a scandal he could ride to the rank of Legate, or perhaps political office. He'd been a womanizing philanderer to boot, fathering at least one child out of wedlock. In short, he was just the kind of devious, pathetic, short-sighted officer Dukat spent most of his time hunting down for the sake of the long-term safety of Cardassia, and Dukat had read the report with rapidly mounting disgust when he'd acquired a copy of it.

Still, whatever their mirror universe counterparts did to get here, they were a potential threat as long as they had the ability to cross into this universe. Learning how they did it would be ideal, but learning _where _would suffice for now. He smiled, and a bridge crewer who had been trying to look at him covertly shuddered.

----------------------------------

They had a small legion of spells sitting on Ryoga before they started walking this time, so they knew right away when they jumped. They were in an alley, between two buildings of loosely fitted stone. The ground below them was unpaved, and from the smell, Lina guessed that these people just emptied their chamberpots straight out the window. Ryoga, amazingly, didn't notice, though a few steps later, he put a foot down with a foul 'splat' sound and swore, suddenly registering the new surroundings.

"Where the hell are we now," he muttered.

"Dunno yet," said Lina, "But we're gonna find out."

----------------------------------

"Okay, trace completed," said Fate.

Ranma stood as the array of spells faded, stretched. "Is it just me, or did that take longer than the last time?" Strangely, the in and out points on this world were within perhaps two-hundred feet of each other.

"Just you. Though the last few have been taking a while." Nanoha shrugged, turned from the hilltop to look at the surrounding grasslands.

Ranma was looking too. There was something off about this place, and he didn't trust it at all. Looking around, there seemed to have been a few grass fires recently, and the ground was gouged up like something big with claws had gotten into a scrap with someone. It had come out the loser, based on a large patch of grass that had been flattened, but no body still there.

Something about this place itched at him. This was bloody dangerous, and he didn't want to stick around. "Are we ready? Can we go?"

There was a long moment as the two mages had a silent conference, both clearly trying to figure this place out. Fate broke the silence, "We're done down here."

-----------------

It was with a small sigh of relief that Ranma stepped off the teleport pad back aboard the _Pauline_. Moreso than any other place they had visited so far, that planet had felt _dangerous_. At least there'd been a portal out – Ryoga had made it. He was honestly worried for the damned pig, part of the reason he was still here helping despite the fact that the cure he'd been promised had more or less fallen through.

Still, concern for Ryoga was only part of it. He genuinely liked these people and enjoyed helping and working with them. They made him feel like he was making a difference. It was a good feeling, one he got so seldom at home, where it was one disaster after another and everything he could do to keep his head above the metaphorical water. The real water too, for that matter. He wished that circumstances would let him keep working with these people, but he wasn't going to be able to stay out here forever. He had responsibilities at home, annoying though they could be. The three main ones flashed through his mind. Only the fact that he was in deep space had likely prevented Shampoo or Ukyo from tracking him down, and if he decided to stay out here after finishing with finding Ryoga, they would find a way to follow him. He wasn't sure exactly _how_ they'd do that, but it was more or less inevitable that they somehow _would_.

He grabbed a drink as the ship prepped for a jump. No way was he leaving the bridge for this, he hoped to continue the search. He had a bad feeling about this, but wasn't sure how to put it into words. Just a general feeling that something bad was going to happen, and soon.

With a now-familiar varicoloured flash, the _Pauline_ jumped. Moments later they were in high orbit of a different planet than the one they'd just been at. Ranma's bad feeling kicked into high gear, stomach roiling. He walked towards the central scanning station, where Nanoha and Fate were standing beside Captain Stevens. "What's up?"

The Captain responded first. "We're having trouble locking down the emergence point. There's a lot of magic floating around down there, dark and wild."

"I think we've finally caught up, though," said Fate.

Ranma's response was sadly not well thought out. "Huh?"

"Confirmed," said the young woman at the sensors. "The signal's still on-planet, though I can't get a good fix on it."

Ranma grinned. "He's still there? Good. Let's go get him."

"That's the problem," began Nanoha, "We're not quite sure where he is. We can't narrow it down tighter than a region of about 100 square kilometers."

"Well, I'm here, so why not do the sympathetic magic thing? Or we head down and do it groundside, or something."

"You'll probably have to head groundside," said the sensor operator. "The magic down there is even more screwed up than the last planet's. And there was something _wrong_ there."

"All right, then," said Nanoha. "Let's get down there and finish this."

------------------------

The other patrons of the tavern were shrinking away from them, which was good. It was a rough crowd that filled this little hole-in-the-wall. The local dialect was rough and guttural, which was of a piece with the rest of their surroundings. The tavern's sign was simply a sundered helmet, its furnishings rough hewn planks, its floor dirt strewn with straw. The food was poor, the drink indifferent.

Lina Inverse was having serious doubts about coming here. On the one hand, they weren't being pursued by giant undead lizardmen. On the other, this place was an utter hole. Ryoga's curse had popped them out in an alley in this... she hesitated to call it a city, for that would insult proper cities like Seyruun or Atlas City, or Sairaag before it was destroyed. Gods, Sairaag even now.

They'd found the Sundered Helm easily enough, and the innkeeper had been agog at the sight of even a single gold coin, promising his best food and room. They were unimpressed so far with what they'd seen – though the prospect of spending the night exploring a rough and unfamiliar city was not a tempting one. Even in this common room they'd drawn some unpleasant looks, and more than a few were looking at Zelgadiss with expressions of outright fear. The fear warred with avarice – the rough patrons had been rather impressed by the colour of their coin.

About the only thing looking up was that questioning the innkeeper had gained them some knowledge: the local temple was overseen by a priest who knew much lore. Hopefully he'd be able to tell them about this world. Given the reaction of the innkeeper to their money, if this priest had access to any kind of atelier, or even just a nice, out of the way place to study, they could buy access, figure out the curse on Ryoga and get themselves home.

Hell, if the curse could be adapted for her own use, she might even try and get him back to wherever the hell he was from. She'd never heard of a city called Tokyo, or a planet called Earth. Finding it would be an interesting mental exercise; though she was not sure if it would be worth the effort. If nothing else, she was almost certainly going to need Zelgadiss' help to figure this curse out. His knowledge of curses was rather more extensive than her own, owing to the time he had spent in trying to cure the condition he suffered from.

Lina glanced around the common room again. She was not looking forward to the night.

----------------------------

Sword swinging down from on high, Guts lunged forward. The Apostle he fought tried to pull back, but was unable to clear the arc of the mighty blade. The Dragon Slayer carved a furrow through demonic flesh; blood erupting in a hot spray that splashed against Guts' chest and face. With a warbled cry of pain, the monster lept clear and hissed at the Black Swordsman as he slowly advanced, one good eye bright with malice.

It had been about six months since the Eclipse, when Griffith had betrayed the Hawks, took Guts' arm and eye, and... violated... Casca. Guts still wasn't sure who exactly had saved them, or why the skull-helmed warrior had done so, but he had recovered enough to go hunting for answers. And revenge. Casca would, he was sure, be safe with Godo. Next time he caught up with Griffith, it would be with his own sword in hand, and the bastard would not be so lucky as he'd been last time.

The Apostle charged again, bladelike claws stretched before its bestial bulk, reaching for Guts. Moving far faster than a man his size should have been able to, the Black Swordsman dodged its rush, Dragon Slayer swinging up from below and almost severing one of the monstrous creature's back legs. Showing its own speed, the creature slammed a bestial fist into his armoured chest, sending Guts flying backwards, sword falling from his grip at the impact. Baying in triumph, the Apostle charged towards him, claws raised to disembowel.

Guts smiled hugely, the metal hand of his artificial left arm flipping back. He raised the arm, pointed it at the Apostle, and gripped the ripcord in his teeth. The five-pound cannon was deafening as it went off, and he closed his remaining eye against the powder flash. Then a demonic fist slammed into his breastplate, crushing the air out of his lungs. Eye wide, he saw the Apostle standing over him, leering. "We are not all so slow as to be victims of your cannon, sacrifice," it growled.

Well. He kicked upward, pushing the monster back just enough to roll away and into a crouch, then dashed for the Dragon Slayer, raising the blade to a guard position. He could deal with this, it would just be more of a fight than he'd been expecting. Claws clashed with blade, drew sparks. For a long, timeless stretch, the two clashed, moving through the early-evening woods and each trying to gain an advantage over the other. Guts needed to get some distance – he couldn't reload the cannon in midfight, but enough time to set up his handbow would be useful. The Apostle needed to stay close; it had no real reach advantage against Guts and no way to strike at range.

The Black Swordsman got another good cut in on the monster, parried its responding swipe. Slightly off balance from the impact, he took a step back, onto a tree root. The Apostle's next strike pushed him down enough to snap through the root, and he stumbled. Another demonic fist crashed down, knocking his breath out in a pained wheeze. Grinning triumphantly, the demon reared back to prepare another blow-

"Moko Takabisha!"

A blue-white ball of energy hit the Apostle's left shoulder, knocking the big monster to the ground. Guts scrambled to his feet, eye wide as it took in his helper – a youth in red and black who was charging towards the Apostle – who looked every bit as surprised as Guts himself. It was even more surprised half a second later when the youth lept into the air, as if having heard a shouted warning, and a golden beam, like a spear of sunlight, lanced below him, skewering the Apostle. Guts' eye widened as the monster seemed to vanish, then two others walked into view, both women, both carrying staves of some sort.

This was one of the stranger things to happen to him lately.

The stranger in red and black asked, "You okay, man?"

Guts took a moment to answer. "Yeah. Who the hell are you three?"

"I'm Ranma Saotome. The ladies are Nanoha Takamachi and Fate Testarossa." A short pause. "We're not from around here. We're tracking down a buddy of mine. Yourself?"

Guts actually blinked. This was not the reaction he'd expected. Though he was, he admitted to himself, slightly off balance from the whole situation. "Gattsu. But everyone calls me Guts." He paused, sorted his thoughts, and realized the question running through his mind. "What the hell is going on?"

----------------

Ranma let the ladies explain the situation to the fighter. They gave him a brief rundown of their little mission, and to his credit, he was shaking his head but more or less following it. The guy was an impressive fighter; he'd been wielding his greatclub, or whatever it was, with a speed and skill that was equal to what Kuno could do with a bokken. Ranma was scanning the countryside, eyes taking in detail and keeping a lookout for more of those monsters.

He finally took a good look at this Guts' weapon. It took a moment to sink in – it was far too big to be called a sword. Too big, and too heavy to be a practical weapon. Ranma wanted to go back to his initial guess of greatclub. But he'd seen the one-eyed warrior wielding it. Guts used it as a sword, not as a club or mace. It was insane, but so was a countryside that randomly produced demons.

Ranma tried to stay calm as he watched the surround. He was still on edge, still nervous, but he trusted the instinct that had brought him charging to Guts` aid. Any man willing to throw down with a monster deserved help. Besides, the ladies had been mentioning wanting to find a local who knew the area, to try and narrow down the search. Even using sympathetic magic they couldn't get much of a fix on Ryoga. Ranma was eager to find his friend. This place was screwed up.

"So let me get this straight," said Guts after Nanoha had finished running the situation down. "The bunch of you are from another planet, trying to find someone else from another planet, before he strands someone else somewhere."

"That's about the size of it."

The dark haired swordsman shook his head. "The hell of it is, I think I believe you."

Ranma chuckled. "Welcome to the madness that has been my life the last couple weeks."

Guts barked a laugh. "Fair enough. And you guys want a guide?"

"Someone who knows the area, really," said Fate, "We have a general idea what direction it is to reach him, but we don't know what's in the area. It would make finding him a bit easier."

Guts was thoughtful for a long moment. "I suppose I could help with that. You guys seem interesting."

--------------

Guts woke with a start. He didn't even remember drifting off to sleep the night before; he'd been sitting around the fire with the three strangers waiting for something to happen – his nights simply did not go smooth, anymore. But clearly he must have fallen asleep, for it was suddenly high noon. Someone had put a blanket over him. He glanced around the small clearing.

"Good morning."

He looked behind him, saw the brunette. "Good morning. What happened?"

She shrugged. "You looked like you needed sleep, so we decided to let you rest. It wasn't bad for Fate and I, either. There were a lot of spirits and such pressing at the wards we put down last night."

_The spirits came... and the mages kept them away._ Guts considered that for a long moment, then said, "Thank you." He tapped the brand on the back of his neck. "This draws the things."

"We wondered about that." She shoot him a look. "You could have warned us."

Guts set his jaw, did not reply. He couldn't think of a polite way to say 'I didn't want to get too attached to you in case you got possessed and I had to kill you.'

Nanoha glanced towards something outside the clearing. "Well. Do you have a map of the area? We'd like to get going as quickly as we can." As she spoke, the others entered the clearing from the direction she'd glanced.

"Sure. Let me dig it out."

-----------------------------------

It had been a crappy night in a crappy inn, but Gourry was feeling more or less alert. This place had him on edge. It had a feel like a place that had been infested with Mazoku, and the people here had a desperate, terrified edge to them.

So it came as absolutely no surprise to him when the reached the temple and the priest they were there to talk to turned out to be a Mazoku, disguised as a human. He wasn't as good at concealing his nature as Xellos was, but he was still managing to fool all these poor people.

As with Xellos, Gourry would follow the mages' lead in dealing with this guy, even though it looked like they weren't going to be going after him. That didn't sit too well with Gourry, who would rather deal with the monster and try to help the people of this city. Lina probably just wanted to get home, and let the problems of others be hanged. Unless they could cough up enough gold to make it worth her trouble, of course. If he thought he could take the Mazoku himself, he'd go after the bastard on his own.

And he supposed, if he was truly self-honest about the situation, that the need to get home was rather pressing. They had to deal with... He couldn't remember the guy's name, but a Mazoku lord who had something to do with dragons. It was possible that Lina was just concentrating on that, that this wasn't a greed thing. But he somewhat doubted it.

Most of the conversation was beyond him, magic stuff about Ryoga. It was beyond Ryoga as well, which didn't surprise Gourry much, though he was slightly surprised that it seemed to be beyond the Mazoku as well. Lina was getting increasingly frustrated with him, which suggested that he wasn't giving her the answers she wanted. They might not be able to get into an atelier to do the research they wanted to do. Gourry mentally shrugged. They could always just put Ryoga in the lead for a while again and find one somewhere else. It was no more mad than their usual plans.

After a while they gave up on running technical questions of magic and stuff past him, and simply asked if he had an atelier they could borrow for a few days. The Mazoku responded with a style of obsequious, defensive mewling that Gourry'd come to expect from priests of all stripes over the years. He didn't have an atelier they could use, or anything like one, nor did he know anyone who did- but if they could make a small donation to the temple he might be able to ask someone?

Lina's temper had snapped, and they'd been treated to an amusing show as she stormed around, ranting and raving. Gourry and Zelgadiss exchanged amused looks, this was an old, familiar show with Lina. Ryoga was trying hard not to laugh, somehow sensing that laughter would get him blown up right about now. Amelia was trying to calm Lina down – futile, but equally amusing. Even odds were that Lina would redirect her rant against the young princess at some point here.

Eventually, she calmed down. "FINE then. We'll just go figure this out ourselves you useless fool!" The rest of the group fell into step behind her as she stormed out. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Zelgadiss' tone was more curious than anything else.

"Shut up!"

Gourry and Ryoga exchanged amused glances. This would be an interesting day.

------------------------------------

"Full power to shields; bring the ship to Red Alert."

The lights darkened as the klaxons began their familiar wail. On the screen was a tactical view of the Bajoran system, top down, showing their projected course. They were going to have to stop briefly in-system to adjust their course – simply warping through at full speed, though desirable, was not practical. Fortunately, they could make their adjustment well away from Terok Nor. They would be pursued, of course, but the Wormhole had been news to Picard and company, so it was likely that the Alliance did not know of it either – they would have an even chance of getting the time they'd need to adjust their warp field and make it to the Wormhole.

"Aye, Captain." Tuvok seemed more neutral than usual; probably a sign of nerves, Tom thought. He didn't blame the Vulcan – this was not going to be fun. The data they had on the blockade they were about to run was not encouraging. With _Voyager_ in her current state, half the ships in the blockade would be able to keep pace with her if they ran, and three of them – new model Klingon _Bird-of-Prey_s – could overtake them. Tension on the bridge was high.

"Time to Bajoran system, Mister Paris."

"Two minutes, seventeen seconds."

There was perhaps half a minute of silence, then Harry spoke up. "Captain, I'm reading the Alliance blockade force now. It's a ship stronger than anticipated."

Their was a faint stirring on the bridge as the tactical display gained indicators for the ships of the blockade. "Identify, Mister Kim."

One of the icons started blinking. "Cardassian ship. my instruments say it's a _Keldon_-class."

Janeway shot a glance at Chakotay. He answered the unspoken question. "A newer version of the _Galor_, essentially. Faster and better armed. We never ran into one in our Maquis days, but we heard about them." A pause. "They'd be able to keep pace with us."

Tom suppressed an urge to mutter a quiet profanity as he re-ran his mental math on the odds. That wasn't a good sign.

"Understood. Proceed on course, Mister Paris."

"Yes, Ma'am." Tom's tone belied his nervousness, calm and cool as ever. He wished he felt that way.

----------------

"Gul Madred! Unknown starship approaching at high warp."

"On screen." Gul Madred's tone was clipped, tense. He peered at the small starship for a moment. "Identify."

The Gil at the sensors worked his instruments for a moment, then paused, then began again. Madred prepared to berate the young officer when he spoke. "I think it's an _Intrepid_-class starship, sir. But the ship's IFF is broadcasting as a ship listed as lost in action in the records I have access to."

The Obsidian Order agent's voice cut through the bridge like a blade of ice. "What ship, Gil?"

"USS _Voyager, _sir."

Dukat nodded. "Interesting. I note that they appear to be making a fast course through the system."

"Yes, sir."

A hint of irritation entered his response. "I think it would be in our best interests to intercept them."

Madred turned to the Gil at the helm. "Do it. And report our intentions to the Blockade commander."

--------------

"Four ships from the Blockade just broke formation, heading on an intercept for us." Harry was doing an admirable job of staying calm as he spoke.

"Which ships, Mister Kim?"

"The _Keldon_ and the three _Birds-of-Prey_."

On the tactical view they saw the four ships angling towards them, leaving most of the heavier elements of the blockading force to cover Terok Nor. The ships were spreading out, aiming to intercept _Voyager_ along her current course. Two of them would make it to weapons range before they reached the point they'd planned to use for a course correction. Tom frowned. "Captain..."

"Hold your course, Tom. They won't hit us at high warp."

Janeway's guess proved out; the handful of shots the pursuit ships managed to squeeze off in the brief window where they had range on the ship all missed horribly. Tom managed their intra-system course correction with haste and precision, getting them moving again before a pursuit ship could get back into firing range. He held his breath as they approached the Wormhole. It was going to be a long, long twenty seconds while they reconfigured the warp field.

--------------

Down in the engine room, Carey was watching the status board carefully. "We've dropped out of warp!"

"Start the reconfiguration," said Torres, her own hands dancing over the console.

Joe Carey did his part, tuning out the status reports shouted by various engineers. They had to do this damnably fast, and it was _not_ something the warp drive was designed to do. The time pressure of active pursuit had everyone on edge; even Vorik's tone was noticeably clipped.

They didn't have a sensor feed down here, but when one of the pursuit ships got into range and started firing on them, they knew it right away. At the station where he was handling power relays, Worf growled something profane in Klingonese. The ship rocked again as it was hit, then the intercom beeped, and the Captain said, "Bridge to Engineering. Please expedite the process."

Before Torres could say something potentially career-ending in response, Carey hit the button to reply. "We are attempting to do so, Captain. Another five seconds for the changeover."

As if to punctuate the statement, the ship rocked at yet another hit, one of the consoles in Engineering dying in a spray of sparks and shrapnel. From where he stood, Worf swore again. "Shields have failed."

"We need that drive setup." There was an edge to the Captain's voice now.

Carey glanced at his display as the warp field stabilized. "Done."

----------------

_Voyager_ suddenly wheeled to port and started moving at full impulse. The two _Bird-of-Prey_s that had managed to get back into weapons range let fly with another volley, green disruptor bolts stitching the after third of the ship's starboard warp nacelle. The nacelle came apart, disintegrating in a flash of flaring plasma and vaporizing metal.

Half a second later, the entire ship vanished in a massive swirl of blue energy. The blockade force's comm channels erupted in confusion, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Had it been a warp core breach? Some kind of experimental drive? A strange weapon going off in a secondary explosion? No-one was sure. Scanning the region was a wash – no sign of the ship, almost no debris, and enough radiation that they couldn't be sure they'd seen anything.

On the bridge of the _Lanrok_, Gul Madred was silent, letting his subordinates run through their suspicions. He was watching Dukat, himself hunched over a scanning station. The Obsidian Order operative was going over something – likely sensor data of that battle – with rapt attention. Curiosity piqued, Madred rose from his command chair and walked down to the operative's side.

"Did you find what you are looking for?"

Dukat glanced up. "Perhaps. More information, if nothing else."

Madred nodded. "Always useful." A pause. "Is there anything we can do to help you?"

Dukat started, surprised to be given any offer of help. After a moment he recovered himself, smiled lopsidedly at the Gul. "You know I'm not here because of something you've done, don't you?"

Madred shrugged. "I suspected at first, but your interest has been in that ship. Or perhaps whatever that blue anomaly was."

"Very perceptive for a Navy man." Dukat paused in thought, turning back to the console. "No, it's probably best for you and your people not to get involved." He quirked a smile. "Though I do appreciate the offer." _I won't be mentioning it in my report, either, _he thought._ Far too many in the Order who would punish him for wanting to help protect the Alliance because he made the offer to _me_ and not _them_._ He suppressed the urge to sigh. _This, too, is the Cardassian way. This, too, I will defend._

----------------------------------

Once, he was a man known as Griffith.

He stole the hearts of women, entranced the hearts of men. He was a warrior, a commander, a visionary. Just a mercenary, but one who would be a king. He'd worn a mask in public, a mask over his soul. Those who followed him were naught but tools to be used and discarded. He'd used them to become a knight, and had intended to go further.

Then one of those tools refused to do as he demanded, and ruined everything.

Still. He had recovered, and ascended still higher. Now, he was a mighty demon, worshiped by easily-deluded mortals as a god. A demon who would avenge himself on the Mortal who had tried to destroy him... soon enough. The demon known as Femto, newest addition to the God Hand, smiled cruelly, as his mind envisioned the torments he had in store for his old ally. It was a mental exercise he indulged in at least once a day. Helped him focus.

One of his Apostles – never let it be said that the demons who formed the God Hand lacked an appreciation of irony – was trying to make contact. Femto allowed him. _You wished to speak to me, Apostle?_

Even in the mental realm, this demon's tone was obsequious. _Yes, my lord Femto. Five outsiders came to my city, seeking magical lore. They are... not of this world, and very powerful. One of them felt as though he was one of our kind._

_Interesting. What did you do?_

_I sent them away, Lord Femto, and I have alerted my brethren in the region. But, Lord Femto... The Sacrifice is also in the area._

For a long moment, Femto made no reply. Gattsu was in the area, where these strange outsiders walked. The part of him that was still Griffith almost wanted to laugh. The greater part, that which was Femto, smiled cruelly. The others of the God Hand had been content to wait, for inevitably the sacrifice would be destroyed by the forces he sought to oppose. But if he were to gain help...

This would require their personal attention, and soon. _You did well to tell me of this. Be prepared, for we shall act against these intruders soon._


	19. Chapter 19

_Author's Note: As always I don't claim any rights to the various 'verses this wanders through. This is done purely for amusement and as a tribute to stories that I've enjoyed over the years._

-Chapter 19-

Amelia Wil Tesla Seyruun was unhappy. There was something wrong with this place, and the plains they were crossing now were no less scary than the forest they'd left behind. There were monsters and Mazoku about, but she could not see them. Just feeling their presence was unnerving. Still, she was a Soldier of Justice, and these monsters would not dissuade her from her task. The precise details of that task were a little muddled right now – Ryoga had rather derailed their existing plans – but the goal was the same. It was always the same. Protect the weak and innocent.

Unfortunately, the specific weak and innocent she wanted to protect were literally worlds away. She was a little disappointed that the nice priest hadn't been able to help them access an atelier. She felt bad that Lina had torn into him so badly. Lina really needed to work on her temper. Hopefully they'd find a decent place to study Ryoga's curse, find a way to use it to get home. They had a Mazoku to deliver to Justice there.

She felt a little bad for Ryoga as well. He seemed a nice enough fellow, but he had run into so many problems in his life. And so many unsavory characters! This Ranma fellow, those terrible Musk people, and that horrible Saffron, who nearly killed the woman he loved, a woman stolen from him by Ranma. His tale was one of epic tragedy, really. She hoped they'd be able to help him.

So however long the road ahead might be, she would walk it, knowing that Justice was on her side. They would manage.

----------------

Lina Inverse was feeling a little better for having had a good yell, and the weather made it a decent day for walking. She was still frustrated at all the time wasted with that damned priest. Hopefully some local bandits would volunteer themselves as a source of stress relief. If not, well, by the feel of the area _something_ nasty was about. A monster would be almost as good as a bandit to make her feel better, though the things seldom had much treasure to loot.

Besides, they needed to figure out a way home. This place categorically sucked. The food sucked, the inn sucked(she'd had to throw a few utility spells around her room to keep bugs away, for Gods sake) and the people were even more dumb-and-poor than they were back home. About the only possible consolation she felt was it would be basically impossible for her sister Luna to find her here. That her sister still planned vengeance against her was something Lina took as an article of faith. The woman had no sense of humor. One little experiment in scrying and illusion...

Still. Off to find a place to set up for some experimenting. The (sucky) road they were walking now led through a grassy plain, studded here and there with boulders. In the distance, she could see a forest, marked by a rising haze. They would hopefully be able to find a sufficiently out-of-the-way place to start experimenting there. Even leaving aside the danger to non-magic users if an experiment went wrong, magical studies in a populated area were a bad idea since most non-mages just loved to interrupt at bad times. It was safer for everyone to do the experimenting somewhere away from them. But not terribly convenient. Getting set up somewhere would take time she didn't want to spend.

Fleetingly, she wondered at the possibility of just letting Ryoga lead for a while and just going elsewhere. She discarded the notion quickly; there was no real way to know what kind of place he'd draw them, and they should be safe enough here to figure out a way to get home. There was no way to know that would be true elsewhere, and with her high-end magic curtailed as it was, she didn't much want to risk that.

Looking towards the woods again, Lina extended her magical senses. Not recognizing the Sword of Light for what it was a year ago had prompted her to fine-tune her mystic senses a bit, to make finding things in the future much easier.

This whole place had a strange feel to it; old power and malice. Her companions stood out like torches against that backdrop. Pushing her senses outward, she felt several small powers here and there, and far ahead...

She started. Far ahead, two other spellcasters. Both of them seemed extremely potent, and when she concentrated on them, they seemed to be carrying potent artifacts. There was a third such artifact with them as well, though the one carrying it had little to no magical power.

Zelgadiss had noticed her expression, and done some looking of his own. "Other mages. This is a break in our favor, Lina."

"Yeah. They have interesting toys, I think."

The chimera sighed. "I was mostly thinking that they might have access to an atelier." With a little more emphasis he continued, "Something we can use to try and get home."

"That too," Lina shrugged. She was always interested in magical artifacts. They were so very useful. Getting home would definitely be a good thing, but she'd like to meet these mages anyway.

--------------

_Nanoha, did you feel that? _Fate's mental voice was tinged with interest and a bit of caution.

_Someone scrying us? Yes. _Nanoha adjusted her grip on Raising Heart slightly, extended her own mystic senses. _I count five. Three mages, two normals._

_I think one of the normals might be our target._

Nanoha concentrated. _I think you're right. About time we caught up with him._

Ranma had noticed the deepening of their silence. "What's up?"

Nanoha's reply was calm. "Nothing much. I think we're getting close."

Ranma smiled. He was looking enthused at the thought of finding his friend.

--------------

The two groups continued walking for several minutes. They slowed, each anticipating a meeting but not entirely confidant it would be peaceable. Lina and co. were operating under the quite reasonable conclusion that everyone they'd run into thus far here had been either a simpering idiot or slightly hostile beneath a veneer of civility. Nanoha and co. were operating under the conclusion that very little had gone smoothly for their search so far, and it was unreasonable of them to expect that to change right near the end.

The road had been built by a crew that had done everything it could to minimize the work required. It went around any rocks or hills it passed in the plains, following the path of least resistance as it meandered through field or woodland. Thus, neither group had line of sight to the other until Nanoha's group rounded a bend and cleared a long, low hill. Both groups stopped, somewhat surprised to see others.

Ranma grinned, waved. "Hey, P-chan. 'Bout time we caught ya."

Ryoga's response was a disbelieving shout, "Ranma?" Then he glanced around, and continued in a normal tone. "I know this isn't Japan. What the hell are you doing here?"

---------------

_Ranma. _Amelia's heart lept. Here, before her now, presented like a gift, was the foul, womanizing beast himself. The cruel, petty monster of a man who had so tormented Ryoga for years. An enemy of Justice, to be sure. And here he was, in the company of a man in black armor(surely another evil man) and two women, neither of whom resembled any of the various fiances Ryoga had described in his tales. No doubt he had snared yet more innocent women to his clutches, the monster!

It had been a long and frustrating couple of days, surrounded with problems she could not affect and taken far from the people she was supposed to protect. Her reaction was instinctual, eyes quickly canvasing the area for the highest point in jumping distance. She deftly lept to it, alighting atop a convenient boulder. Her accusing finger pointing straight at Ranma, she shouted, "Ranma Saotome! Enemy of Justice and vile despoiler of women, I will punish you!"

---------------

Under normal circumstances, Lina's reaction to one of Amelia's little justice speeches would be a facefault. Right now, however, it could be turned to her advantage. She'd gotten a good look at the two strange mages' staves, and had fallen in love instantly. They had the look of powerful items. She would let the princess rant; with a little luck, she'd finish it by doing something to instigate a fight.

Lina welcomed such a fight. Even handicapped as she was right now, she was one of the most powerful sorceresses of her generation, and she had her friends behind her. Most powerful mages would not loan another powerful mage their staff, so Lina would have to take one. She favored the silver-and-brass one with the giant red bauble set in the hooked end, it looked the more straightforward of the two. The brunette in white who carried it would likely be a challenge, but that was okay. Lina liked challenges.

That this challenge would ideally have an extremely potent magical item as its end reward was icing on the cake.

---------------

Ranma stood, half-immobilized in confusion as a short, dark haired girl in white stood atop a boulder and ranted at him. He was having trouble following whatever logic guided her rant. Then he glanced at Ryoga. The damned pig had probably sparked this. He tried, several times, to get a word in edgewise, and failed utterly. Behind him, he could hear Guts start chuckling at the sight, and made a mental note to have a word with the one-eyed swordsman in the near future. He was also catching the mental equivalent of giggles from Nanoha and Fate. _Do you two mind?_

_Sorry, _replied Nanoha, _But this is rather entertaining._

Almost riding the tail end of that thought, the stranger came to the finish of her speech. "..And for your crimes against Justice, Innocents, and Fair Damsels, I, Amelia Wil Tesla Seyruun, will defeat you!" As if to punctuate the statement, she launched herself from bouldertop, foot extended in a flying kick. Surprised and slightly off balance from all of this, Ranma's reaction was instinctual. He caught the attacking girl's foot and spun her into the muddy road.

About two seconds later, his brain caught up. She was still lying there, and he suspected he'd dropped her a touch harder than he should have. The sinking feeling he'd had for a day or so was getting worse.

His suspicions were immediately confirmed by Ryoga. "Ranma, you bastard! How dare you strike down an innocent girl!" Ryoga charged him, expression on his face giving lie to his righteous indignation. If Ranma were to guess, Ryoga had, as usual, blamed this mess on him, and had been looking forward to a fight for a while. Truth to tell, Ranma had been looking forward to a chance to spar with Ryoga for a while, see what he'd learned on this little trip.

---------------

Lina's heart lept as Ryoga charged. She'd been hoping for a chance like this. She charged towards the brunette. "Looks like they wanna fight! Gourry, take the big guy; Zel, defend Amelia!"

She popped off a volley of Flare Arrows at the brunette, who deflected them with some kind of shield. No matter, she'd get that staff yet. She dodged the sorceress' reply, a volley of purple bolts, and followed as she took to the air.

---------------

Gourry knew he wasn't all that smart. Travelling with a group of mages tended to grind that in. But he knew weapons and he knew warriors. He didn't like the look of the man walking towards him. The one-eyed warrior was about half a head taller than he was, but he looked like he outweighed Gourry by a good sixty pounds. Every ounce of it was muscle. He was wearing mismatched half-plate and had one hand on the hilt of the weapon on his back. Gourry hadn't gotten a good look at that yet. This guy looked tough and confident.

Still, Gourry had yet to face a human swordsman he couldn't beat. This guy looked human, just big. He was working with Ryoga's enemies, and between Amelia and Lina's assault, this was a fight they wouldn't be able to get out of. So he'd deal with this guy. The warrior drew his weapon. Gourry's eyes widened.

It was too big to be called a sword. It seemed more like a slab of black iron in the right general shape; an oversized imitation of a sword rather than the real thing. The dark haired warrior swung it into a ready position like it was bamboo. This was going to be interesting.

---------------

Guts saw the blonde's confidence erode as he drew the Dragon Slayer. His smile widened. The demon in the blonde swordsman's group was facing off against the blonde woman in his. For now, the blonde swordsman was moving to challenge him and Guts would be more than happy to give him the fight he was seeking. He rushed forwards, the Dragon Slayer sweeping down towards the smaller man.

----------------

Gourry swung the Sword of Light by instinct, trying to interpose the enchanted steel blade between himself and the black iron monstrosity that tore through the air towards him. The impact jolted through his arms, but he managed to redirect the massive weapon away from his body. The stranger swung at him again, far faster than anyone trying to control that much blade had any right to be. They traded blows for several moments, each taking the measure of the other. Gourry feinted high, his true strike licking in towards the massive man's leg. The scarred warrior got his massive blade down in time to parry his strike into the rocky ground.

Gourry danced backwards, mind racing with tactics and ploys he could use to beat this monster of a man. A glance along his own blade was something of a shock: the enchanted steel was actually _bent_ from its impact with his foe's weapon. He hadn't even thought that possible given the calibre of the magic imbuing the metal. He hit the release pin on the blade, felt an unaccustomed resistance. Damnation. He dodged a rush from the one-eyed warrior, forced the pin to release the steel blade. It gave with a suddenness that told him he'd be needing a new mithril pin later. Damn. That stuff was expensive.

"Light come forth!" With gratifying swiftness the brilliant golden blade took form. He felt rather gratified to see his foe's one eye widen in surprise. This fight wasn't over yet.

----------------

Zelgadiss stood above Amelia's prone form. Damn Lina and her greed. He knew exactly what she was trying to do. She was trying to get ahold of one of the admittedly impressive magical weapons wielded by these two strange mages. And damn Amelia for giving her the opening she wanted. He was tempted to damn Ryoga as well for his part in this mess, but ultimately the martial artist was much like he was – a victim of a curse that he could do nothing about. Though he could have mentioned it before taking the lead when they'd all started running.

The blonde advanced towards him, staff held out to the side. Suddenly, it shifted form, changing from something that looked like a poleaxe into a greatsword with a golden blade. Zel drew his own blade, took up a ready stance and imbuing his sword with an Astral Vine spell. Silently, the two locked gazes. He could tell that she also had not been looking for a fight, but now that one had started, she fully intended to pitch in. She charged.

Zelgadiss braced himself before the blonde's assault. She was damned fast, and he didn't like the look of her spellblade – it was uncomfortably similar to Gourry's Sword of Light. One third golem or no, he didn't think he liked the thought of getting hit by it. He caught her initial attack, but was quickly forced to fall back before the fusillade of blows. She was _fast_. At least he could count on Amelia trying to distract the strange swordmage when she awoke. For now, he was scrambling to keep her from connecting with the big sword. This kind of opponent was what they kept Gourry around for. Where was the bloody meatshield when they needed him?

Zel shook himself. This was not the time to distract himself by trying to cast blame on others. He needed to concentrate. He needed distance. He waited for the blonde to plant her feet for another swing, then lept backwards, snapped off a flare arrow- the spell was so basic he didn't need any real windup for it. She caught the blast with a shield spell, but that was okay. He only needed to distract her for a moment so he could cast Levitation. He took to the skies.

She followed. Zelgadiss spat a curse and brought his sword around to guard position again. Damn Amelia and Lina for getting them into this.

--------------

Nanoha was hardly surprised to run into a powerful and skilled mage here, and she recognized that look of greed. This was an interesting aerial duel – Nanoha was keeping up, but the redheaded stranger was pushing the pace hard. They exchanged volleys of spells, dodging each-other's blasts or catching them on a variety of shield spells – the redhead favored a barrier of compressed air, something she used for her general flight magic as well.

Nanoha could probably drop her quickly if she had to, but for now she was content to get a feel for what her opponent could do.

"Why are you doing this?"

The redhead's response was glib. "Your friend hurt my friend. Just defending her."

"Ranma was the one attacked, not your friend."

"Shut up!" the redhead shouted, popping off another volley attack. "Flare Arrow!"

Nanoha caught the volley on her Round Shield, replied with a volley of her own. "Divine Shooter!"

--------------

Ranma was enjoying this despite himself.

Oh, Ryoga didn't have any new tricks, or at least no new tricks that he'd popped on Ranma yet, but it was still a hell of a lot of fun to duke it out with him. A fight where he wasn't in horribly over his head. A fight where he knew, more or less, the stakes. The stakes were not what some would consider high, perhaps, bragging rights and honour, but for Ranma and Ryoga, they were plenty.

Ranma caught another of Ryoga's attacks and fed him into the turf. He dodged the fanged boy's response, but was caught by a follow-up strike, flying back from the impact, breath knocked out of him. Okay, Ryoga'd managed some practice. That would make things interesting.

The two martial artists bounded around each other for a moment, neither gaining any real advantage over the other as they dueled, neither going all out yet. After a few minutes, he saw that the crazy girl who'd attacked him back on her feet. For a moment he wondered if she was going to complicate his fight with Ryoga, then she shot skyward. Not his problem. He returned his attention to Ryoga, picking up the pace.

---------------

Fate was doing fine against her odd opponent. She wasn't entirely sure what species the strange man in white was, but he was a hell of a mage. None of the individual spells he'd used were all that powerful, but he had a remarkably versatile repertoire. And he was a decently skilled swordsman, which made that aspect of the duel interesting. Still, she could tell that his heart wasn't really in this. She wasn't sure how much slack she was willing to cut him; his friends had started this, after all.

Nanoha hadn't given any impression of needing help against her opponent yet, and Ranma looked to be doing okay against his opponent, as was Guts. His swordsmanship was also damned impressive, and he had a reach advantage on the man he was fighting. In short, she was not worried about this fight. They'd take their time, let their opponents wear themselves down, and once they were calm they'd talk things out.

She closed with the blue-skinned man for a furious exchange of sword blows. "I'm impressed," he said.

"Thank you."

"Few powerful mages ever bother to learn the sword. To fight as you do, takes dedication." They traded a few more blows, punctuated by small blasts from each of them.

Without warning, the dark-haired mage in white roared past from below, enveloped in winds and blasting past at high speed. About forty feet above Fate, she cut off whatever speedy flight spell she'd been using in favour of another and sent a blast down at Fate. "I won't let you hurt Zel! Elmekia Lance!"

Fate dodged the attack with almost contemptuous ease. "Lightning Bind." Bands of golden energy snared the strange girl's hands and feet. She turned her attentions back to 'Zel' as the stranger whined, "No fair!"

The blue skinned mage grinned slightly. "I would love to learn that spell from you. It must have so many uses."

Fate quirked an eyebrow.

"I, uh, didn't mean it like that." His cheeks darkened.

There was a long moment where the two hovered just out of easy blade-reach of each other, the sound of the mage in white struggling with the binds the only thing breaking the silence.

"You don't actually want to fight, do you?" Fate asked.

The blue-skinned mage shook his head. "Not particularly. I stepped up because I wasn't sure about how you'd react to our attack." He shrugged. "Wanted to make sure Amelia would be okay."

"Understandable." She floated closer, extended a hand. "Fate Testarossa-Harlaown."

"Zelgadiss Greywords." He took her hand, shook it firmly.

She glanced around, suddenly looking concerned. "I think we have a bigger problem."

--------------

Lina was getting frustrated. She was reasonably sure that the brunette she was fighting was holding back, and with her current handicaps she was still having trouble breaching the brunette's defenses. Another volley of purple bolts streaked towards her, she intercepted them with a Windy Shield – it couldn't stop them, per se, but it could detonate them before they reached her. The stuff she could throw quickly while still concentrating on flight wasn't doing much to the stranger's shield spell, black magic or shamanistic. It was a very solid barrier, and Lina was starting to get slightly infuriated by it. Attempts to close for a sword-strike were inevitably parried by that lovely, lovely staff.

Time to pull out the stops. This was going to be utter overkill, but damnit, she wanted to end this fight and claim her prize. She couldn't feel her connection to the various Mazoku that powered most high-end black magic, but she could feel the Sea of Chaos, right where it always was.

Taking a deep breath, she began to cast:

_Lord of the Dreams that Terrify,_

_Sword of Cold and Darkness, free yourself from heaven's bonds,_

_Become one with my power, one with my body,_

_And let us walk the path of destruction together,_

_Power that can smash even the souls of the Gods,_

_RAGNA BLADE!_

_----------------_

Nanoha's eyes widened as her opponent completed her spell. A blade of raw, elemental chaos energy took form in the redhead's hands, and she lunged towards Nanoha, swinging the blade in a high arc. Instinctively, Nanoha pumped power into her shield spell and tried to back away.

The blade cleaved clean through her shield as though it were no more substantial than tissue paper, and only her instinctive dodge kept her from losing a limb, the blade close enough to her arm to take a chunk out of the puffed sleeve of her barrier jacket.

Eyes wide, Nanoha gaped at her opponent as the black blade vanished. She took her mental estimate of the girl's mage rank and kicked it up a few levels, then quickly interposed Raising Heart to parry a strike from the girl's shortsword. She shook her head, trying to clear it. If this redhead could throw around that kind of firepower, she'd have to be more careful.

_Nanoha! _Sent Fate,_ We have a problem!_

_I know, _she sent back slightly defensively, _but I can handle her!_

_Not Lina. Take a look around._

--------------

Guts was keeping the pressure up on the blonde he fought, but the smaller man's speed was countering his advantage in reach and power. They had covered the same patch of ground several times back and forth. Guts was actually enjoying himself, which was somewhat rare for him these days.

He lost himself for a time in the simple play of thrust, parry, and counterattack; massive black blade against golden longsword. The blonde, once he'd found Gut's measure, seemed to be enjoying himself as well. Each saw in the other a worthy opponent to test their skills against, in this mad little fight. Neither had a stake in things, neither had tried to start this. So they were taking this chance for a chall-

There was a familiar pulsing sensation at the back of his neck, a gurgling, liquid sound, and the feel of spreading heat. Eye wide, Guts pulled back, felt the back of his neck. His hand came away bloody – the brand of sacrifice was bleeding; which could only mean...

He turned, looked to the distance. On a nearby hilltop he saw a familiar figure; a giant of a man with blood-coloured cloak and a head that looked like the brains were on the outside rather than in. He turned further, scanning the line of small hills, and saw the others; a giant insect with a human face, a winged woman, a small man with puckered face and tentacles. A monstrous man in blood-red armor, with a helm fashioned to look like a stylized hawk's head and beak. Griffith, and his fellow demons.

He barely noticed Ranma and his friend, or the blonde swordsman, walking to his side. Barely heard the blonde's muttered oath, "Mazoku..."

His eye fixed on the red figure, the grip on his sword tightening. A low growl grew in his throat, after a moment tearing out of it as a scream of rage. _"GRIFFITH!" _he shouted as charged. As he moved, the God Hand gestured as one as the sky, and the ground beneath his feet turned to mirrored fields of blood-red skulls.

--------------------------------------

An exhausted Tom Paris staggered into the quarters he shared with B'Elanna Torres.

He'd spent the last twelve hours in sickbay, patching up his shipmates. For the first three of those hours, he'd been alone – the power surge caused by the destruction of their warp nacel had knocked out main power. For about half a second it knocked the inertial dampners slightly out of phase as well. Thank God – they'd only been at impulse. Most of the ship had taken about two Gs of lateral acceleration, with spikes as high as five in a few areas. It hadn't killed anyone, but there were a lot of crew members with broken bones and bruises, as well as a few concussions. Harry was one of that last, though he was doing better now.

If the dampners had gone off like that at warp, they'd be nothing but goo against the bulkheads, so Tom wasn't complaining too bitterly. He was glad enough that they'd survived.

The Doctor had kicked him out of sickbay before they were entirely finished helping crewmembers because he was about to collapse. He'd wanted to stick it out, but the Doc had insisted. A brief glance at the room's comm console showed that B'Elanna had gotten his note, but she'd be stuck in Engineering for a while yet. They'd both be too tired to do anything, but he'd wanted her here. Ah well. She was fixing the ship, and that was all to the good.

For a brief moment he contemplated just falling into bed, uniform and all. He thought better of it, mustered the energy to take a sketchy sonic shower first. Slightly cleaner, most of the sweat and such scraped off, he staggered to the bed. He was asleep within seconds of hitting the pillow.

He awoke a few hours later to the chiming of the comm console. Grumbling incoherently, he started to move to get it when he realized he was pinned under an armful of still-sleeping wife. Damn, but he must have been tired last night to miss her slipping in. And she must have been tired too – she was still in uniform. Kissing her forehead lightly, he slipped out and stumbled over to the comm.

"Tom here," he said as he hit the 'receive' button, quietly. "And please be quiet, B'Elanna's still sleeping."

"Sorry, Mister Paris," came the Captain's voice, "But we're going to need you both up here. We need to plan our next move."

Tom sighed. "Okay, I'll wake her up. Conference room?"

"Yes, and thanks."

Tom sighed as he cut the comm. He pulled on last night's uniform and walked back to the bed. He gently shook B'Elanna. "Honey?"

"Mrzzah?"

"I'm sorry, but you need to get up. Captain wants to talk to us."

"Mzuh. Krzguh jrr muh." She shifted on the mattress, hands looking for purchase, and after a long moment, she said, "Coffee."

"Okay, honey." He walked to the replicator. "Computer, two Raktijinos. One black, doublestrong. One with two cream and sweetener." He handed his wife her prescription and watched the caffeine work its magic.

After draining the mug in a single drink, she stood. "Thanks, Tom. Let's go see what the Captain wants."

--------------

"...And that's the situation. We've got main power stabilized, and the Impulse engines are working again, at about twenty-percent power." Lieutenant Carey shrugged. "But I don't think it's enough to break out of the gravity rift we're caught in. And I don't think we can get it fully repaired with the resources aboard ship."

Harry nodded glumly. "We'd need half impulse at least to get free."

They'd made it into the wormhole all right, but they'd been unable to keep on course without main power. They'd gotten pushed off course and away from what their charts said was the best route through the wormhole. Well off. They didn't know where they were now, beyond still in the wormhole. Getting out had become the problem. They'd hoped to be able to manage that, but as it stood...

"And the warp drive?"

Torres' reply was practically a snarl. "Even if we could establish a warp field in here, which I doubt, there's still the fact that we're missing half a nacel. Short of getting this thing inside a shipyard for a month or so, we aren't fixing that." Silence descended around the table for a moment.

A very disappointed Captain Janeway broke it. "All right. Any suggestions?"

Silence descended on the conference table again. After a long moment, Tom muttered, "Maybe..."

"You have something, Mister Paris?"

He blinked, looked up. "Uh, nothing concrete. Just a thought. What if I took the Delta Flyer out, and took a look around? It's possible I might be able to find the way out. If I pop out in the right dimension, I can get help from Deep Space Nine. A _Defiant-_class Starship should have the grunt to haul _Voyager_ out of this damned grav rift."

Worf nodded. "It would, indeed. And _Voyager_ could emit a powerful beacon to lead them to you."

Janeway nodded decisively. "Do it."

--------------------------

"Station log, Stardate 51851.5. It's been two weeks since Lieutenant Commander Worf, deputies Liran and Mor, and Elim Garak vanished from the station. We've concentrated on our work to get through this, and for the most part we've succeeded. Fortunately, no major developments have happened on the war front. We intend to change that soon, at the Chin'toka system.

I mention Worf now because his adoptive parents, Sergey and Helena Rozhenko, have arrived at the station, hoping for news of their son. I have no good news to give them; something that burdens my heart at a time when I have burdens enough."

Still dreading the meeting he knew was coming sooner than he would be ready for it, Captain Benjamin Sisko walked from his office to Ops. At her station, Jadzia nodded to him. "Any news, Old Man?"

She shook her head sadly. "Nothing." A pause, then, "And the Rozhenko's are waiting for you in the conference room."

Ben sighed quietly. He'd been hoping for more time, for any kind of information to give them. He'd been through countless meetings like this during this damned war, and he supposed it was for the best that each one was still hard for him. Still-

Jadzia interrupted his train of thought. "Captain! Unidentified vessel coming out of the Wormhole."

"On screen." He turned towards the viewer as the small, dartlike vessel appeared. "Any identity?"

"No sir, but it's transponder reads as a Federation design. They're hailing us."

"Put it through."

The ship vanished, replaced by a young, thin man in Starfleet uniform. "This is Lieutenant Tom Paris to what I dearly hope is Deep Space Nine. Respond please."

"This is Captain Benjamin Sisko of Deep Space Nine. Where did you come from, Lieutenant?"

The figure on the screen laughed aloud. "It's a long story, Captain. I'd love to tell it to you. Requesting permission to land."

--------------

Ben had wanted to be the first to welcome his lost officer home. So had Jadzia. Sergey Rozhenko was an old man, well past his prime, but the grey-haired Slav was first, and fastest, to Worf's side when the _Voyager_ docked, having been towed out of the Wormhole by the _Defiant_. Father and son embraced wholeheartedly, a sight that warmed Sisko's heart after so much war and suffering.

After father came mother, then wife. Eventually, his turn came. "Good to have you back, Commander."

"It is good to be back, sir. It has been... an interesting journey." The big Klingon glanced back at his companions from _Voyager_. "Though not so long as they have had."

"That's something of an understatement," said Sisko as he turned to Captain Janeway, who was overseeing the offloading of several injured crewmembers, en route to the Infirmary. "Captain, we'll do something more formal soon enough, but I'd like to be the first to welcome you home."

The tired looking woman managed a faint smile. "Thank you Captain. It's good to be here."


	20. Chapter 20

_Author's note: Yeah, I know. I'm late. Between writers block, work, Canada Day celebrations, recovery from same, and my neighbor's insistance on partying loudly at all hours of the goddam day and night I had just a bit of trouble getting this finished. But it's done now, and posted. So yay. Anyway, presented for your hopeful enjoyment is Chapter 20 of Grand Tour. As usual I don't own any of these 'verses and I'm too poor to be worth suing._

_At least I got it up the day of, rather than leaving this plot on that last cliffhanger for another week._

-Chapter 20-

She didn't recognize them specifically, but the five figures in the near distance had the definite feel of Mazoku. With the amount of power she felt from around them, they were almost certainly Mazoku Lords of some sort, too. Lina Inverse swallowed hard to clear a lump in her throat. This was going to be... interesting.

Below, the black-armored warrior began to charge towards one of the Mazoku, screaming a name. As he moved, they cast something, and the area was enveloped in dark energy. A chill ran through her as the skies seemed to turn to a wave of skulls.

--------------

Nanoha's practiced eye recognized what the strange mages were casting as some kind of barrier, fell and terrible, and quickly descended. "Lina! Let's get groundside and I'll bust this open." The redheaded mage followed after a moment, expression guarded. Trying not to think to hard about what she was standing on, she landed, sent a mental command to Raising Heart. The Intelligent Device began burning through its clip of cartridges, funneling power into her attack as she concentrated on a point in the bloodred sky above.

As she powered up her spell, she probed the barrier. As she'd first suspected, it seemed to push everything within it slightly out of phase with normal reality. Similar in theory to those she dealt with most of the time, though none of the usual barriers were quite so... macabre. "Divine.... BUSTER!" she shouted, casting the spell as it reached a full charge. The iridescent purple beam lanced skyward, pierced the vile sky. After a moment, it seemed to split, bloodred skulls giving way to pale blue sky. Sundered, the barrier collapsed and retreated back onto itself, restoring sky and landscape to normal.

She turned her attention to the five dark casters. Time to deal with them.

--------------

There'd been no hesitation on Ranma and Ryoga's part. When Guts started to charge, they followed. The blonde swordsman, Gourry, was barely a step behind them, golden sword at the ready. There was something... _wrong _about those monsters. They'd take the bastards down, and they'd definitely back a comrade in arms. When demons started popping up in job-lots it broke up their charge a bit, but they kept going as best they could. Ranma and Ryoga lost ground to the two swordsmen, fists and ki-blasts proving less adept at dealing with demons than swords, but they kept at it gamely.

"I wish I had my umbrella!" Ryoga shouted as he body-flipped one of the demons into another.

"It's back on the ship," said Ranma.

"What?" Ryoga's tone was incredulous.

"I saw it – _Moko Takabisha – _in a pawn shop a couple planets ago. Couldn't find the rest of your stuff, though."

"Dammit Ranma, why not?" He hammered another demon. "And why didn't you bring my umbrella?"

"Didn't have much time to look, man." Ranma paused a moment to pound on an interfering demon – they had an irritating habit of not staying down. "An' I kinda forgot about the umbrella. We were in a hurry when we came down here."

"Dammit Ranma! You got me into this mess, and you couldn't even find my damned stuff?"

Ranma blinked, then yelped as he barely dodged the next demon's assault, having allowed himself to become distracted. "_I _got you into this? How is your family curse my fault?"

Ryoga grumbled something incoherently as he delivered a jaw-shattering kick to one of the encroaching monsters.

"Didn't catch that, P-chan."

"I heard a rumor about a scroll detailing a secret technique. I was looking for it when I wound up in space."

"How is that my fault?"

"It-" He paused a moment. "So it maybe isn't, but you still shoulda brought my stuff!"

Ranma blasted another demon. "I'll remember next time I try and save your sorry butt."

---------------

Gourry was managing to keep up as he and the black haired swordsman – Ryoga's friend called him Guts - were tearing through the mazoku horde that was pouring onto the battlefield through a handful of what looked like gateways. He rather hoped the mages would get to work dealing with those; he had his hands full working over the beasties within swords' reach.

Ahead, Guts was stalled by a particularly massive mazoku – it was taking a lot more killing than the others. A heavy swing – even now he was too damned fast with that sword – chopped off a clawed hand. As the mazoku reared back, Gourry darted in, Sword of Light stabbing into the creature's hip and tearing out its belly. Gourry was a bit surprised at how much gore the blade was generating – vastly more than normal. He put it down as yet another way in which this world just sucked.

Gourry brought the Sword of Light back to a guard position. The mazoku were giving him some room now. He took a moment to catalog his wounds; a few nicks and scratches so far, nothing that would slow him down. Glancing at the black swordsman, he saw that Guts had picked up a few incidental wounds too, and a cut of some sort on the back of his neck that was bleeding freely. That could be a problem, though given how freakishly strong the guy was, he'd probably last long enough.

As magical blasts – _finally –_ began to fall among the serried ranks of mazoku, Gourry and Guts stood side by side, exchanged nods, and charged together towards the red-armored Mazoku Lord Guts had been charging for. Black blade and golden carved a bloody path through malformed flesh.

-------------

Fate dropped another Thunder Rage into the demonic ranks, thinning the herd around Ranma and Ryoga. The five spellcasters on their side were all hovering fairly close together, hammering away at the foe as they tried to figure out their next move, dodging acid spit, thrown spikes, and energy blasts. Nanoha sent a mighty blast at one of the boss demons, and the squidlike creature seemed to be laughing as it caught the blast on a shield. If Nanoha's blasts couldn't crack that shield, her own certainly wouldn't. She'd have to get close.

"Bardiche: Zanber form."

**"Yes Sir."** Her Intelligent Device shifted form in her hands, and she felt a familiar _thrum_ of power as it obeyed her mental command to start powering up.

She gripped the weapon in both hands, streaked towards the "Sonic move."

The world slowed around her as she streaked towards the monster, ready to deliver a mighty blow of her golden blade. In the time-skewed view the spell generated, she saw several flying demons turning towards her with what looked like comic slowness – she knew that without her own speed spell they would seem far faster, but as it stood-

And then, perhaps fifteen meters short of her target, she slammed hard into a barrier spell. It was pulsing outward, shoving her back. Reacting quickly, she brought her blade to bear; but it's golden edge simply skipped off the oily-looking barrier.

She fell back, glaring at the cheerily grinning monster for a moment before turning her attention to its minions, who had caught up. The fierce aerial duel was brief, punctuated by a volley of blasts from her fellow mages, sweeping the sky clear for a moment.

But more monsters came, their masters protected from the mage's wrath by their potent barriers. Another Divine Buster flashed and failed against the barrier protecting the tentacled demon. They needed a plan. While this barrier was no more powerful than the one they'd used to try and shunt the battlefield out of sync with reality, it was entirely specialized for defense.

---------------

Gut's world was nothing but himself, Griffith, and the hundred-odd yards of ground between them. The demons between the two were barely noticed, nothing beyond things to strike down with the Dragon Slayer. He could feel the blood pumping from his neck, flowing under his armor and soaking into his tunic. He could feel half a dozen cuts and scrapes from other demons, but they didn't matter. The feeling of his eye being gouged out; the sound of Caska's cries; filled his mind. Vengeance would be his.

He put his armored shoulder down as he reached the oily skein that formed between them, slammed into it, bounced. Growling, he tried again to push his way into it and failed. For a few moments he tried to slash at it with his sword, but the mighty blade slid off it without cutting. He broke off from his fruitless assaults as the encroaching demons caught up with him. He laid into them, venting his fury at being denied his strike at Griffith.

Gore flew from the Dragon Slayer as he cleaved through demon flesh, a mindless shout of anger escaping his lips. At the back of his neck, blood pulsed from the Brand of Sacrifice with every beat of his heart. He felt its heat increase; Griffith was walking closer. Glancing behind him, he could see the demon that had once been his friend, the face, though half-hidden behind a steel mask, clearly that of the same man. A faintly mocking grin turned his lips upwards as he closed in, knowing well what his close approach was doing to Guts.

The trickle of blood flowing from the Brand of Sacrifice became a stream, then a torrent as Griffith stood perhaps fifteen feet away, still smiling faintly, as Gut's vision began to gray out. He sank to his knees, the only sound he could hear the thunder of his pulse as demonic claws closed in.

--------------

The Sword of Light swung in a high arc, decapitating the mazoku who was reaching for the fallen swordsman. Gourry planted a heavy kick to the monster's flank, directing its collapse away from Guts, struck down another mazoku that was trying to close on them. A space thus cleared, he grabbed the larger man's unarmored arm and pulled him up, half carrying, half dragging him away from the shield and the red-armored Mazoku Lord standing nearby. He shot the monster a glare, was rewarded a mocking salute.

Ryoga and Ranma, plowing as hard as they could through the enemy horde, reached his side. Ranma paled a moment when he saw the torrent of blood flowing from the swordsman's neck. "Kamis... we need to get him out of here!"

"I know," shouted Gourry, "Cover us!"

With the two martial artists hammering away at them, the mazoku were unable to fully close with Gourry and Guts. The black-armored swordsman was still alive, breath ragged but still coming, one hand still gripping the hilt of his massive sword. The flow of blood from his neck was slowing; Gourry wasn't sure if that was a good sign, given how much of it had been coming before.

He was damnably heavy. After getting him not much more than a hundred-fifty yards away from the Mazoku Lord, Gourry had to put him down. The mazoku were growing bolder, pressing closer, and he needed sword in hand. Over the fighting, he bellowed for Amelia.

--------------

The white-clad princess wasn't far. Amelia had seen the four ground-bound fighters working their way back from the shield, the scary evil man being carried. He was clearly injured, and he'd been helping them... She didn't like him at all, but to bring these Mazoku to Justice was going to take everything they had. Besides, as her Zelgadiss showed, appearances could be deceiving. She stopped sniping at mazoku and streaked down to where they dragged the larger man.

The sheer amount of blood closed her throat for a moment as she landed. She forced herself to swallow her gorge, laid a hand on the still-bleeding wound, and closed her eyes, calling up the most powerful healing spell in her repertoire. Healing energy flowed into Guts for a long moment, then a wave of dark power struck her through the spell, throwing her back.

That was no normal wound- there was some kind of curse laid upon it as well. Hand throbbing in pain, she looked at her handiwork. The wound was not fully healed, but it had closed, scar tissue marking what had been red and raw. The big man took a deep breath and started to stand. "Thanks, little girl."

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't! You need to save your strength!"

The one-eyed man's savage grin all but terrified her. "Save your worries for them, girl. I have strength enough."

--------------

Lina glanced around. This was getting ridiculous, even by her standards. More Mazoku were pouring onto the battlefield, and they'd yet to close with any of the generals – every time they tried, a bunch of the bigger minion demons piled up in front of them, with blasts flying around. Flagrant use of her magic was keeping the demons from massing too heavily near them, especially with Nanoha, Fate, and Zelgadiss helping, but there were just too many of them.

But the boss mazoku, or whatever they were, were staying out of easy reach behind that damnable shield. And in this damnable place, she couldn't draw upon Shabranigdu for a Dragon Slave, which severely curtailed her offensive firepower. "We need a plan 'B,'" she shouted to be heard over the fighting.

Nanoha shouted back, "Agreed. Fate and I have tried to call our ship, but these things are blocking magical communications."

Zelgadiss threw a Mega Brand that blasted a decent chunk out of the enemy ranks. "They don't care about losses in their minions – we need to close with them somehow, or cut off their flow of re-enforcements."

"I'm open to suggestions," said Nanoha. She drifted closer to the others as she cast a volley of spells. The more Lina saw of that staff, the more she wanted one. Still.

"Zel- that portal," Lina gestured to the nearest of the portals from which Mazoku poured. "If you can get to it, can you collapse it?"

"Probably. Do you have a plan?"

Lina thought for a long moment. They weren't going to be getting re-enforcements of their own anytime soon. Even if Nanoha could contact some kind of ship, they were too far from any body of water for cannon fire to be able to support them. She'd never be able to close enough to use the Ragna Blade, not after seeing how easily they'd blocked Fate, who was far faster.

"I'm sorry, Sylphiel," she whispered. Then, louder - "Yes, I have a plan. Can you guys keep them off me for about a minute?"

"Of course," said Fate. Nanoha nodded agreement.

"I'll need some kind of magic booster- my own booster won't work that well here."

Fate tossed her a small, circular device with six brass casings sticking out of it. Each brass held a chunk of what appeared to be magic in crystallized form. This would work wonderfully. "Thanks!"

Zelgadiss, who knew her better, narrowed his eyes. "What are you thinking, Lina?" At her lack of response, he continued. "You know what would happen if that goes wrong! Have you gone mad?"

"Do you have a better idea? Just keep the bad guys off me. Nothing short of this has worked."

Zel sighed, took up a guard position. This was not going to end well, but at this point there really was no way that it _could_ end well. He took comfort in the fact that the last time Lina tried this they survived.

Lina dropped from the sky, settling on a rocky outcrop on the battlefield. She took a deep breath, calming her thoughts and preparing.

First, she needed power. _"__Lords of Darkness of the Four Worlds,"_ she began,  
_"I call upon you, grant me all the power that you possess!"_ The Demon's Blood talismans at her waist, throat, and wrists glowed with a faint inner fire. They had almost nothing to draw on here, but she pressed the cartridges against one of the gems, and they discharged into the talismans. She held the power a moment and surveyed the field for a target. Two of the mazoku lords were standing fairly near each other at the edge of the pain. That would be as good a target as any.

She took a deep breath and began to cast.

_Darkness beyond blackest pitch, deeper than the deepest night!  
King of Darkness, shining like gold upon the Sea of Chaos, I call upon thee!  
I swear myself to thee!  
Let the fools who stand before me be destroyed... by the power you and I possess!  
GIGA SLAVE!!"_

A wave of black energy shot through with jagged bolts of white blasted forth from Lina's cupped hands. It crashed down onto the mazoku hordes like the wrath of a dark god and rolled onwards, devouring the monsters it touched and growing in depth and breadth as it tore through them. The two Mazoku Lords in its path pushed more power into their barrier. The wave of darkness crested above them and crashed down with tsunami force, cracking the barrier like an egg and washing outwards, ravening through the assembled throngs of mazoku before finally dissipating.

--------------

As the smoke cleared, Nanoha's eyes widened in disbelief. She'd been worried at the general feel of the last big spell Lina had thrown, but it had nothing on the raw, nigh-elemental _evil_ of the spell she'd just cast. In its wake, the ground had been scoured clear down to the bedrock in a massive swathe, clean of demons, corpses, and life. Of the two demon lords there was no sign, and her Wide Area Search couldn't see evidence of a teleport. That had been an incredible spell – over a third of the demonic horde had been wiped out in a single stroke, throwing the rest into disarray – but it was terrifying. Even Hayate would be hard pressed to match that display.

She looked to Lina, saw the young sorceress collapse. Lina was unnaturally pale, skin and hair bleached white from the strain of the spell. She raced to the younger woman's side. "Are you okay?"

Lina pushed herself upright. "I'll be fine. That spell takes a lot out of me. There's your opening; use it before they recover." Already scattered spikes and bolts of energy were starting to fly towards them again from the horde before them.

"We will." She gripped Raising Heart tightly, felt its power surge in response to her thoughts. "Don't worry." _Ranma._

The martial artist's response was delayed a moment. _Kinda busy, here. What's up?_

_Lina's down. Can you get here? _She blasted a demon that was getting too curious about the exhausted mage.

_Gimmie a second..._

From a fair distance within the demon horde, she saw Ranma leap skyward, his friend Ryoga not far behind. In a display of agility and speed she wouldn't have thought possible for someone without magical enhancement, the two bounded from head to head in the confused throng, finally coming to rest near Lina and Nanoha.

"We're here," said Ryoga.

"Stomp those big guys," said Ranma.

"You're in good hands," Nanoha said to Lina before taking to the sky again. The skeletal demon lord, and its insectoid companion, were no more. Three to go.

--------------

Slan twitched her wings and smiled as one of the outsiders charged at her. She'd come at Femto's behest not to secure the lost Sacrifice for his sake, but because this mortal, with his incredible ability to withstand pain, fascinated her. Seeing that he'd somehow managed to gather powerful companions was impressive – so seldom did mortals manage anything like that.

Seeing one of those companions so powerful that she had killed Void and Conrad with a single stroke brought Slan to an emotion she had thought long purged from her soul: fear. The chaos energy of the spell – something no mortal should have been able to wield in such amount – had disrupted the weave here. She could not simply slip away, much as she wanted to. Still, she'd seen no sign that any of the others could use such chaos magics, and thus she could survive the destruction of this body in spirit form. It would not be an experience that would be conventionally pleasant, but her tastes in pleasure were far from conventional.

With a blur of inhuman speed, her claws reached for the belly of the blonde-haired warrior-mage that had charged her. Those claws – which should have disemboweled the female human – scraped against the armored material that composed her outfit. She had just enough time to process this before the golden spellblade the female wielded came slicing down, removing her arm and most of one wing. A shriek of pleasure slipped out as she stumbled backwards. The flat of the golden blade struck her flank, sending her airborne for a moment.

Her lost wing not yet regenerated, Slan struggled to right herself as she fell, managing through inhuman grace to get her feet under her before striking the ground. She opened her mouth to yell something mocking at the mage when true, crippling pain struck her. She shrieked in pain so pure even she could not perceive it as pleasure as blue flame consumed her, body and soul.

As the pain receded, she turned towards the source of the attack, saw two of the outsiders, clad in white. One of them was human, small, female, and black-haired, the other had the feel of one of their Apostles. She tried to mentally reach for that one, tried to turn its will to her own. The blue-skinned male sneered at her, and sent another volley of blue flame after the last. The ravening fire was re-enforced by the female in white, and when it faded, no sign of Slan could be seen.

---------------

Ranma and Ryoga fought side by side, hammering away at the encroaching beasts. They'd started to get organized again, and were trying hard to get to Lina, probably to get her before she could repeat that last massive spell. They really didn't need to bother, she looked halfway unconscious right now. But she was in danger, so the two martial artists would protect her while she recovered her strength. Even though they'd both rather be helping Guts and Gourry.

This was starting to get a little ridiculous. These demons were tough, and could absorb most of what Ranma was throwing around. Ryoga was doing a bit better, accomplishing with raw strength what Ranma's speed was struggling with, but even he was being slowly pushed back. These things didn't feel pain, didn't have pressure points. It was a pure brute-force-and-profanity fight, and Ranma was running low on both. Using the Amaguriken to plant hundreds of punches a second into one spot worked but far too many of these demons had skin so hard it was like punching steel; he'd nearly broken his hand on the last one he'd tried that on. His Moko Takabisha was working decently, but overusing it was draining – he chalked that up yet another thing to work on if he survived this.

He mentally ran through his list of secret, sealed, and forbidden techniques for something to try. The vacuum blades his father had created for the Yama Sen Ken would be damnably useful right now, but he'd been too busy avoiding them to study the technique while fighting Kumon and he'd not pressured the damned panda to teach him the trick. The Hiryū Shōten Ha would work wonders, but there wasn't enough hot ki floating around to make it work.

Hot ki. Wait one kamis-damned second...

Ranma mentally ran through his fight with Lee and the conversations with Lee and Mushi that followed. He had adapted some of the components of their style to his own use, but not the full technique itself. Generating fire aboard a spaceship had seemed a poor idea to him. He'd not really experimented with it much since, either.

Well, it wasn't like he had anything to lose right now.

Dancing back from the monstrosity he currently fought, he took a deep breath and started channeling his ki the way Lee had. For insurance, he slipped into a Shaolin Kung Fu stance, and attacked.

A grapefruit-sized ball of fire flew from his hands and impacted the monster's chest.

Cackling with maniac glee, Ranma launched into an assault, sending blast after blast into his foes, most punctuated with a fist's blow for added emphasis. Quick experimentation showed more ways of generating flame, virtually all of them extremely ki-efficient, as he'd noticed observing Lee. The demons he fought didn't much like flame, either, and they started to give him some more room.

They weren't the only ones to notice his blasts. "When the hell did you learn to throw _fire,_ Ranma?" Ryoga's shout was incredulous and jealous.

"Couple planets back, same place I found your umbrella."

"Dammit Ranma! I suffer though all this mess and don't find a single technique that I can use, and you managed to learn how to _throw fire_? It's just... so _unfair!"_

Knowing what was coming, Ranma lept away from the usual blast radius, grabbed the still-not-quite-upright Lina, and yanked her behind a rocky outcropping for cover.

Surrounded by a surging tide of demons, Ryoga screamed at the sky. _**"Shi Shi Hokodan!"**_

---------------

Zelgadiss landed next to one of the portals, threw an Elmekia Lance through it to discourage anything from coming through for a moment, and concentrated. He wasn't a specialist in portals, but he knew more general magical lore than any other member of their little group, a consequence of his seemingly endless quest to cure his condition. He found the portion of the spell that kept the portal anchored. There were probably better ways to neutralize it, but that would do. With a percision born of years of experience with both magic and sword, he stabbed his blade into the portal's mouth, sent a bolt of power along it. It severed the tendril of energy that bound the portal, and the portal collapsed in on itself with a popping noise.

Zelgadiss smiled as he took to the skies and raced for the next one. He loved it when a plan came together.

---------------

Guts felt invigorated. He was utterly surrounded, blade swinging like a metronome, cutting through demon after demon. And though he could feel the pulse of his heartbeat in the Brand of Sacrifice, he wasn't bleeding. They'd lost their little trick to keep him away from Griffith. The oily wall that had stopped him before was gone. It was payback time.

To his left fought Gourry, his golden blade cutting through demon flesh with greater ease than Guts' own. Side by side they advanced through the enemy ranks, leaving job lots of gore in their wakes. The God Hand was growing increasingly desperate as it threw demon after demon at the two swordsmen. Guts' blood sang as he pushed through the demonic ranks. This utterly unexpected second chance at striking down his hated enemy was a mighty gift, one he intended to use to its utmost here and now. He had his second wind, and a mighty explosion in the middle distance threw the desperate horde into even greater disarray.

Bellowing the name of his hated foe, Guts charged through the confusion, straight for the red-armored monster that was once his friend. Two hapless demons without the good sense to get out of the berserker's way were cut down, then he had a clear run across fifty yards of open ground.

Griffith gestured. Instinctively, Guts dodged to the right, barely avoiding a blast of black energy that tore a swathe through the demons behind him. He continued to charge, sword coming around from behind him to deliver a blow that would tear Griffith in half.

It never landed. The Dragon Slayer slammed into some kind of shield. It felt like he'd swung the blade into a boulder, the impact ringing up his arms. Undaunted, Guts swung again and again, each blow being stopped by the shield, but each blow getting closer to the armored form. Suddenly, Griffith's mocking smile vanished, his eyes focusing. On the lack of arterial spray from the back of Guts' neck.

The single moment of panicked realization was all Guts needed. Griffith's concentration momentarily broken, he was unable to keep his personal shield going. The Dragon Slayer broke through it and slammed into his side. Griffith was lifted from the ground by the strike, crashing down. Awkwardly, he rolled aside, barely avoiding a descending blow of Guts' sword. He drew his own blade and sought to parry his next strike.

He blocked it directly, not a parry or redirect, but a straight block of the attack. It was Guts' turn to be surprised. He fell back, parried an attack of Griffith's, shocked at the strength in the blow. He had become vastly stronger since their last duel. He fell back before a series of strikes, trying to find an opening. Something, anything he could use. He'd come too close to fail now.

Then the demon who was once his friend snaked its blade inside his guard, delivering a cut to his still-flesh arm, then slamming against the blade, twisting it out of his grip and flipping it in the air. Guts watched in a moment of helplessness as his blade spun through the air, embedding itself in the ground fifty feet away.

Between him and his sword was the demon that had once been his friend.

--------------

Nanoha chased down the stunted, tentacled demon that had been her first target. Having observed its compatriots in desperate straits, rather than try and help them, it was trying to run. It hadn't made it far enough to escape her wrath. She did not look kindly upon those who attacked her and her friends.

She popped off a few quick Divine Shooter volleys, keeping him honest and preventing the monster from running flat out. It worked. The monster had power, but little courage. And, without the aid of his compatriots, not much in the way of mystic defenses. A bind spell caught the fleeing creature cold.

Binds were not, in general, all that hard to get out of, when one expected them or was familiar with them. The demon Nanoha snared was neither. He struggled, crying out. Nanoha slowly drifted around ahead of him, fixing the monster with a look that stopped his cries and wails. "You should not have attacked my friends."

As Nanoha's mental commands caused a runic circle to form beneath her feet, the demon, looking at the expression on her face, took on an aspect of raw terror. As Nanoha began to cast another spell, it renewed its struggles and began to babble, promising power, riches, glory, _anything_, if only she would not destroy it. In the face of the white-clad magess preparing to to deliver destruction to it, it saw a cold rage that would not have been out of place on another of its kind.

Nanoha, face expressionless, began casting her spell. It was a spell of her own concoction, adapting the Divine Buster spell that Raising Heart had taught her when she had gained enough power to be able to use it, all those years ago. It took that already-potent spell and added to it, gathering up any and all residual energy from other spells cast in a wide radius around the casting point and using them to empower the beam. The main battlefield was within that radius. An amount of raw power was gathering for her spell that greatly impressed Nanoha – she hadn't worked with this many powerful mages at once in a while – and while she was slightly unnerved at the feel of some of the energy coming from Lina's big spell, she was greatly happy that she was going to be on the giving end of this blast, rather than the receiving end.

Power gathered, she mentally disengaged the safeties of the spell – the half-line cantrip that prevented it from outright killing the target – and took aim at the demon, now sagging against its bonds and weeping openly. "Starlight Breaker!"

A brilliant purple beam, its core too bright to look at directly, shot through with streaks of black chaos energy, lanced towards the ensnared demon lord. When the flash and flare cleared, not even ash remained.

---------------

Ranma gave the dust a moment to settle, then peered over the top of the boulder he'd used for cover. His eyes widened in surprise. Ryoga had outdone himself; he was standing at the center of a crater almost a hundred feet wide, and twenty deep, surrounded by pulped demons. That would certainly help with matters. He glanced down at Lina, who was using the boulder to help herself upright. "You gonna be okay here for a minute? Can't let Ryoga have all the fun."

The sorceress nodded. "Go for it. I should be able to get airborne if I have to."

"Gotcha." Ranma sprung over the boulder, picked a nearby demon, and started blasting. Once he got the ki flowing, the fire blasts were very efficient, and were producing plenty of hot ki. The fact that they were doing at least some damage to the demons was pure gravy as far as Ranma was concerned, he just wanted to set himself up.

"Ranma, you are teaching me that trick even if I have to beat it out of you." Ryoga shouted to be heard over the battle as he body-flipped a large demon into one of its compatriots, a vaguely porcine thing with far, far too many spikes sticking out of it. Both went down in a heap.

"We'll see what happens, P-chan. I could be convinced to show you how it works."

"I'll figure something out. I always do. You might want to stop putting out hot ki, by the way."

Ranma blinked, looked at his friend. Ryoga was walking in a circle in a stride that was deceptively calm and even, despite the fact that he was punching, kicking, and throwing more than a few demons out of his way. He was still following a course that Ranma recognized, though he'd never seen Ryoga walk it before, and come to think of it, for being in the middle of a fight his tone was totally level and his ki looked neutral, almost cold- _OH SHI-_

Ryoga gathered his feet under himself and launched into an uppercut. "Hiryū Shōten Ha!"

As the whirlwind spun into existence – scooping up Ranma, who had still been firebending when Ryoga started it – it started ambling aimlessly through the throng of demons, scooping them up in ones and twos. It didn't hold all of them, simply flinging some unfortunates into the distance or their groundbound compatriots. What little organization the horde had managed to gather began to crumble, and the mass of the demonic horde broke and fled.

---------------

Guts lept backward, powerful legs barely keeping him out of the arc of Griffith's sword swing. He darted back, trying and failing to stay out of the demon's reach. He dodged another, almost lazy, slice, then planted boot to red-armored chest, pushing Griffith – stronger perhaps, but he still massed less than Guts – off balance. The black swordsman wasted no time, artificial hand flipping back, cannon firing barely six inches from Griffith's torso.

The cast iron cannonball slammed into the red armor with a loud _bong_ audible over the echoes of the blast. As the powder-smoke cleared, Guts broke into a run, eye fixed on his sword.

He didn't make it. A leathery wingtip clipped his leg, spilling him to the ground. He rolled into a crouch and looked up. Griffith smiled down to him, chest and stomach streaked with powder and ash but unharmed. There was an oblong smear of clean armor below his collarbone and just left of center where the cannon ball had hit.

"Still only human," he said in that damnably melodic voice. "I am so much more. More than you could imagine, more than you could even hope to comprehend." The point of Griffith's sword raised, pointed straight at his chest.

Guts refused to give into despair. "Caska chose me, not you, monster. You can't be all that 'superior.'"

Anger flashed in Griffith's eyes, tugged at his cheek. "You will regret that, Guts." The sword-arm tensed, preparing to strike.

A golden flash; Griffith staggered to one side, one wing half-parted. With an expression of surprise he turned towards Gourry, barely managed to parry the blonde swordsman's next strike. "Not today, Mazoku."

Gourry and Griffith exchanged blows for a moment, the demon so surprised at this intervention that he fell back before the attack for a few steps before recovering and putting the blonde on the defensive. But before he could press his advantage over the smaller man, Guts returned to the fight, Dragon Slayer in hand.

Against either one of them, Griffith would surely have prevailed. In life, he had been one of the, if not _the,_ best swordsmen in the world. His ascension had only increased his speed, strength, and skill. But the gap between his skills and Guts' were small, and Gourry was every bit Guts' equal, wielding a sword made by artisans far more skilled than any this world could boast.

Against them both, he fell back, step after inexorable step. A shriek of utter pain filled the air, marking the death of one of the other God Hand. Griffith redoubled his efforts, but the attempt gained him little; he was on the defensive again when winds began to whip and tear at earth and horde. The Dragon Slayer battered at his armor, even where it could not penetrate impacting with enough force to shatter bones in any mortal opponent. The Sword of Light gouged at the demonic steel, weakening the armor and carving at his body's energy with each cut.

Backlit by a nova of purple light, Griffith finally stumbled. The Sword of Light stabbed past his defenses, penetrating his breastplate and cutting him to the bone. Gourry twisted the blade as he pulled it out, and the breastplate cracked. He managed one more parry before Guts delivered a devastating overhand blow, opening his body from shoulder to crotch, damaged armor shattering before it.

Utter disbelief filled him as he hit the ground. The demon Femto, once the man Griffith, had no breath to speak but mouthed a silent 'how?' to an uncaring sky as the Dragon Slayer descended once more, severing head from body. The demonic form crumbled as the energies animating it escaped, fading like dust upon the wind.

--------------------------

On a nearby hill, overlooking the battleground, an enigmatic figure known only as the Skull Knight watched the God Hand fall and knew hope for the first time in decades.

Long had he accepted that his struggle to overthrow the God Hand was a hopeless one. Their power was greater than his, greater than that of all who sought to stand against them. He continued to struggle, for he had more power than the smallfolk who were so utterly defenseless against the ravaging whims of this world's demonic overlords. He refused to succumb to despair, driving against them and disrupting their aims whenever he could. He had known, somehow, that saving the humans Caska and Guts from their clutches would disrupt their plans. He had no idea how much. He could not have imagined how much.

He dared not hope that their evil was forever vanquished, for he knew that they were a symptom of the corruption of this world, not its cause. But with them so weakened, their plans so assuredly in disarray, perhaps it would be possible to counter them fully, to set this world on a path that would not fuel creatures such as they.

The Skull Knight removed his helm, feeling the sun's light against his scarred head for the first time in longer than he cared to remember, and cried tears of hope, offering a wordless prayer of thanks to whatever gods might be listening, for this chance.


	21. Chapter 21

_Author's Note: As always, I own none of the various 'verses this fic wanders through, nor do I make any claim. This story is something I'm doing purely for amusement and entertainment. I am far, far too poor to be worth suing, too._

-Chapter 21-

From orbit, that muddy, mazoku-infested world didn't look half so bad.

Zelgadiss, Gourry, and Amelia stood by the window of the Observation Deck, watching a world turn below them. They would be returning to their own homeworld soon. Assuming that Lina's latest little escapade didn't get them all in trouble.

Coming onto a massive, magically empowered ship designed to cross not seas but _stars_ had distracted them all. Lina had been less distracted than the others; or rather, she hadn't let herself be distracted from the valuable course of trying to... _acquire..._ some of the various magical artifacts present. Things had proceeded as one might expect. She was in a cell at the moment. Fortunately their hosts had been understanding enough not to toss them in after her.

Still, for the moment, Zelgadiss wasn't going to let that bother him. She'd asked for it. And at the moment, he was happy enough to simply observe that was going on and enjoy the wonders of looking at a planet from space itself. It was not, the thought, a sight that he was going to get bored of any time soon.

Eventually, the chimera realized that their group had company. Glancing over, he saw the magess Fate. "Good evening. We appreciate the lift."

She smiled. "Not a problem. If we'd been doing our jobs right, we would have caught Ryoga before he dislocated you in the first place."

"Oh, I don't know," began Gourry, "It's certainly been interesting. I'll be glad to get home, but we've had quite the little adventure."

In a concerned tone, Amelia asked, "What's going to happen with Lina?"

"She'll be fine. We'll be keeping her away from temptation until we're done the trip."

"I'm sorry I didn't warn you," said Zel. "In the year I've known her, she's never shown much in the way of impulse control."

Gourry nodded. "If she thinks it's valuable enough she'll steal anything that's not nailed down and on fire. She's tried to take my sword more than once."

"Then why do you travel with her?"

The blonde swordsman looked away, some colour rising into his cheeks. "I have my reasons."

Zel decided to rescue his companion, amusing though it would be to watch him squirm a bit. "She has her redeeming qualities. And working with her is a decent enough way to keep her pointed at the bad guys."

"Preferably bad guys with treasure," added Amelia with a giggle.

"Well, in any event, we'll be getting you home soon enough. For now, Zelgadiss, if you'd like, some of our specialists would like to examine the spells that altered your body, and perhaps find a way to reverse them."

"I would love that. Shall we?"

-------------

Ranma and Ryoga were cheerfully bouncing around the combat ring in the ship's gym, surrounded by cheering marines and ratings. They'd wanted a show, and the two martial artists were giving them a hell of a good one. It wasn't a serious fight; each knew the other and each knew the stakes. They battled to test each other; and this time they were not interrupted. The two bantered as they fought, doing more than a little damage to the bulkheads in the process.

After half an hour of fighting, their pace increasing to the point where they were practically blurs that the watchers could barely follow, they were interrupted by Captain Stevens. The older man bellowed, "What are you two hoodlums doing to my deck?"

The two martial artists broke up the fight almost instantly, looked to the Captain as the crowd of crew parted in front of him. He looked mad. "And what are you lot doing down here? I know for a fact that half of you are supposed to be on duty." The crowd quickly, guiltily shuffled out. Stevens looked over the sparring mats, shook his head, then glanced behind him. "This is why we didn't let you and Fate in here. We're not built for this kind of abuse."

Unnoticed in the wake of the wrathful Captain was Nanoha, who laughed lightly as she stepped forward. "I understand. Still, it all looks fixable. And didn't you just have several crewmen volunteer to help the repair crews?"

The Captain snorted. "Good point. I'll let you get to things, I have a repair party to round up and a course to plot."

As the captain left, Nanoha looked at the battered deck and chuckled again.

Ranma found his voice, "Sorry 'bout this. We just wanted a quick spar, an' a crowd showed up, an' things kinda... got outta hand."

"Don't worry about it. Ryoga, if you'ld follow me to the medical bay, our specialists can get to work on that curse of yours."

Ryoga jumped up from the crouch he'd been in, started to surge forward, then stopped himself. "After you."

She turned to walk from the gym, pausing a moment. "Oh and Ranma? If it wouldn't be too much trouble, can I get you to write up an after action report on that fight? You've listened to a few of mine and Fate's, so you should know the format."

Ranma groaned, and Ryoga snickered.

----------------------------

Captain Sisko looked up as Captain Janeway walked into his office. "Good morning, Captain. Thank you for coming."

Janeway smiled. "Thank you for taking the time to see me before you leave for for the battle at Chin'toka. I know you must be pressed for time."

"Oh, its not so bad as all that. Thanks to you, I have my tactical officer back. Having Worf back on the _Defiant_ for this is going to help with our morale."

"I'm glad to be here to deliver him." She took a seat on the far side of Sisko's desk.

"In any event, I wanted you to know that I've gone over your report, the summary, at least. It sounds like you've had a hell of a trip." He paused, saw her rueful nod. "And as someone else who'se had to deal with Temporal Investigations, you have my sympathies."

Janeway shrugged. "Even without this last snag, we'd be due one. Their've been a few incidents with time travel on our trip. As per protocol, I've done a partial purge of our database. Everything we got from Starfleet since this date, from our perspective. Hopefully, that should minimize the roasting we get from Temporal Investigations." A rueful smile. "Lord knows, there's a few groups going to be raking me over the coals."

Sisko nodded. "I wouldn't worry too much about that. In the end, you got your people back and brought an amazing windfall of information with you. Not only a decent set of charts on the Delta Quadrant, but several other polities and some dimensional information." He quirked a smile of his own. "The Science Council will probably force Starfleet Command to let you off light, just so you can explain it all to them." They shared a chuckle. After a moment, Sisko looked to the window and scratched at his ear. "All that being said... I don't suppose you know much about the war?"

Janeway shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Starfleet Command didn't distribute much in the way of information about the battles; 'need to know,' and all that. We didn't need to know, out there."

"Any.. generalities?"

Janeway smiled. "Captain, I'm in enough trouble with Temporal Investigations without getting into that, and I don't have any information that would be useful for you anyway. We really didn't get any updates, out there."

Sisko nodded. "Fair enough." He smiled. "I don't particularly want to run afoul of Temporal Investigations again myself." He glanced at his console. "The engineering reports I have show that your Impulse Engines are back up to full strength. I hope you won't mind me asking you to pitch in with station defense if anything happens while we're away."

"We'll be happy to mind the store." A pause, then a grin. "I'll have to get down to Quark's quickly though, before too many of my alpha shift officers get too... festive." Then, more seriously, "Who will I be coordinating with on the station?"

"I'll be leaving Lieutenant Dax in command while the fleet is in action."

"All right. Thank you, and good luck."

"I appreciate it."

---------------------------------

Zelgadiss smiled as he went over the data the TSAB mage was showing him.

These people were fascinating. They were unquestionably masters of magic, having elevated it from art to science. He felt a bit overwhelmed by the amount of raw information they were showing him in this, a scrying of his chimerism. It was more complex and integrated than he'd first thought. A grudging respect for Rezo: the man had known his spellcraft.

They would likely not be able to find a way to undo the chimerism in the time they had, but that was of little consequence. They had agreed to provide him with a 'database' of knowledge about chimeras. The tome they had shown him - brilliantly encoded within a crystal able to project the words through a spell - contained an amazing amount of knowledge, enough to rival a Clair Bible. It might not bring him to a cure, but it would come close. One they got home, there would be the hopefully simple matter of dealing with Gaav, and then he would head for his altelier and start some serious research.

At the other end of the sick bay was Ryoga, talking to Fate and Nanoha about how he'd gotten onto this little adventure. Zel had not been paying too close of attention; for all his world was different from the fanged boy's, adventure and lore called to the young. Some things, he supposed, had to be universal. The youth was, Zel would bet, at least half trying to distract himself from the various items circling and scanning him. Even for himself, well versed in the ways of magic, the version that had been sicced on him had been unnerving.

"...so I grabbed for it, and there was a flash of light, and then the whole place started shaking. I started to run, an' then I was in someone's office. And that, I guess, is where everything started."

"You were walking around a ruined temple and you just grabbed at a shiny object without thinking?"

The youth shrugged. "It was an emerald the size of my fist. Of course I grabbed for it."

"And the office? Was that the Starfleet station?"

"Yeah."

Nanoha checked something on a display beside her, punched in some numbers. "Well, assuming Chrono's report is accurate, it looks like whatever you touched pushed a large charge of magical energy into you and empowered your curse. The timing looks about right." Fate checked the display as well, nodded agreement.

"So... is this curable?"

The kid was trying to seem cool and collected, but Zel caught the undercurrent of concern in his tone. While the two mages looked over the displays, he said, "Don't worry, Ryoga. These people put my knowedge of lore to shame. They'll be able to cure you, it just might take a little while."

Ryoga nodded slightly, seemed to calm down a bit. "Yeah... okay." He glanced at the latice of spells swirling around him. "At least their scanning thing doesn't hurt when you touch it."

"Pfft. Of course it doesn't, it's not for use in the field. The one I used was for containment as much as anything else."

"Didn't you trust him?" Fate's tone was amused.

Zel shrugged. "Wasn't sure what we were going to find. Hell, you're in the business. You should understand these things."

-----------------------------------------

Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing listened to the blond young Japanese girl carefully.

Partially, that was because Sailor Venus – the only one of the Senshi who admitted the ability to speak English – while technically fluent in the language, hadn't used the English language extensively in some years, and was having some trouble shaking the rust off her linguistic skills. Combined with a fairly thick accent, it took some attention just to understand her. Mostly it was because, though she did not intend to tell them, Sir Integra understood spoken Japanese perfectly.

Thus far, Sailor Venus had been more-or-less faithfully relating her sister Senshi's words. They were an interesting bunch. She'd already read the official report, forwarded to her by both Admiral Harlaown and Gil Graham, and was willing, for the moment, to trust their judgement that this group was not overtly dangerous.

The black haired girl in the group – Sailor Mars, if she remembered correctly – glanced at Seras Victoria again, her expression a mix of fear and caution. The others kept admonishing her to remain calm, as they were guests. To her credit, the vampiress was enduring the unkind attention well.

Nothing they had said contradicted the information she had. Weather that was because they were being totally honest with her, or if they knew that she'd been forwarded a copy of the report, she was not entirely sure. Her read on them was the first; they seemed quite straightforward. For the most part, they were discussing generalities. The subject of their motivations had been covered and at the moment they were covering the possibility of working together should circumstances dictate the need. They were not terribly thrilled with admitting a need for help, but they were willing to put that aside. She could work with that, and the black-haired one's knowing what she had at her disposal should they give her a reason to take them down.

Speaking of... she caught a familiar wiff of corruption. She hid her smile as Alucard walked into the room through a wall.

Sailor Mars' eyes widened the second he entered, and she turned. The others did as well. "Ah, Alucard. Welcome."

"You didn't tell me we'd have guests, Master." His gaze swept the girls, wearing an expression that could only be described as predatory.

"It slipped my mind. Sailor Venus, I introduce Alucard, one of my top field agents."

She nodded to the vampire, managed a quiet greeting. At the widening of his already broad and toothy grin, she shuddered, then turned back to Sir Integra. "Would mister Alucard be the agent you would send should we request aid?"

"That would depend greatly upon the situation, and how much aid was required." She allowed herself to smile. "But it is likely, yes."

"I... See. If we may, I think we should be going now. Thank you for the tea."

"Of course. I do _so _look forward to hearing from you." She smiled at Alucard. He was ever so useful in convincing people to play things straight with her.

-------------

As they rode back to the airport in their rental car, the Senshi were mostly silent. After a time, Usagi said, "Rei, I'm really sorry we doubted you earlier."

There was a chorus of agreement. When it cleared, the shrine maiden said, "I guess it's okay. We're out of there, at least. Let's not talk to them again if we can help it. We still have to call that American group, hopefully they'll be better." She shuddered again. "They can't possibly have anything worse than that vampire."

Usagi yawned. "Later though. We're gonna be so jetlagged tomorrow, we'll sleep through class."

"Not like that's unusual for you, meatball head."

As the squabble intensified, Ami tried to tune it out and sighed. She'd done some research on the BPRD. She suspected Rei was going to be disappointed. Still, allies would certainly be a help, as would the training they would be getting on Mid-Childa over summer break. She reminded herself that these were good, useful things, because damned if they weren't going to play hell with her scholastic endeavors.

------------------------------------

"...And at that point the bad guys mooks mostly ran. We finished off the ones that did not and grouped up to get out of there. Guts did not come with us, saying he had people he wanted to catch up with and stuff to do and thanked us for helping him. I think he has mostly been a loner so that was not a huge surprise to hear. Then we all came back to the _Pauline_." Ranma sat back from the console he'd borrowed to type up a report, and nodded. It probably wasn't as polished as they wanted, but what the hell? He wasn't one of their people. Idly he twiddled the pendant they'd given him for translation and such. They'd probably want it back. Ah well, it was a neat little toy, but not much use to him.

He took a moment to make sure he was reading the console's controls right, then fired off a copy of his report to Nanoha; he'd let her deal with making sure it got filed properly and such. He stood and stretched, headed down to the mess. He didn't think he would be welcome down in the gym, not when there were people still cleaning up the damage he'd done their earlier.

Down in the mess he spotted Nanoha. After loading up a tray – it was rather amusing, seeing the reaction he got from the mess staff with his normal meals. He guessed they'd never run into someone used to fighting for his food before. "I sent in my report thingy. How's Ryoga?"

"He should be fine. His teleportation curse should be quite curable, though the secondary curse is as embedded as yours."

Ranma blinked. "Uh, I, uh, don't know what you're talking about."

"Ranma, I recall some questions of yours from earlier. It doesn't take a genius to read between the lines."

"Fair enough." Ranma deflated slightly, started in on his food. "Guess I don't do 'subtle' very well, huh?"

"It's all right, you were concerned for your friend's privacy as well as his safety."

"Something like that. It's kind of a long story." For a moment they ate in silence. "So, what happens now?"

"Now? We deliver our other guests back to their homeworld, then to Mid-Childa to remove the teleportation curse. If you can tolerate being poked and prodded by another set of mages, we can get some of our specialists to take a second look at the transformation curse as well, see if we missed anything out here. After that, we get you two back to Earth."

Ranma considered that for a long moment. "Probably not worth the aggravation. The doc seemed to know what he was talking about before." A shrug. "Besides, it'll be the only chance I'll have this whole trip to check out a planet where I _know _nobody's gonna try and kill me. I can't even count on that back home, so I figure, what, a day or two?" he paused, Nanoha nodded, "And then its back to Nerima for the usual insanity that is my life. Figure I'll sightsee a bit." He grabbed the pendant around his neck. "By the way, when are you gonna want this thing back?"

"Keep it, it's no problem."

Something in her tone raised a warning flag in Ranma's mind; he shot her a look, eyes narrowing. "What, in case you need to get in touch with me again?"

Her smile grew. "Don't tell me you haven't enjoyed this little adventure."

Ranma sighed and rubbed at his forehead. "Did I get drafted while I wasn't paying attention or something?"

"Drafted is such an ugly word."

"I'm betting it's real accurate, though." Nanoha nodded, smiling impishly. Ranma tried not to groan. At least he was getting to go home, they weren't completely dragooning him into this. And honestly, he'd enjoyed a decent chunk of this little adventure, so he wasn't totally opposed to the idea. He just wished they'd asked first.

--------------------------------

It was a quiet evening at the Tendo dojo. The family, and guest, were growing used to quiet meals; without Ranma around, the energy level around the house was just plain low. They were used to him and his antics. Even Genma was calm, eating slowly. He and father had been spending more time around the Dojo playing Go than usual, and had begun to moan about Ranma's absence, sure, somehow, that this doomed their goal of uniting the schools. Nabiki was vaguely amused by their antics, though if it continued she was probably going to find it annoying. For herself, she was starting to miss Ranma, or rather her pocketbook was. Without fresh photos, her weekly income was dropping noticeably.  
As they began the second course, there was a knock at the door. Quietly excusing herself, Kasumi stood and strode quickly to the door. She opened it and said, "Welcome to the- Oh! Ranma!"  
The gathered diners all turned to the door as Ranma Saotome, pack over his shoulder walked through the door. Close behind him was Ryoga. "Hi, gang. Sorry it took so long, he's a hard man to find."

For a moment, silence. Then pandemonium reigned. Father burst into tears of joy, crying out that the schools should be joined at once. Genma smiled widely, then started in on how they needed to make plans. Akane looked like she wanted to speak but set her jaw, refusing to do so. Her sister could be so amusing when she decided to get stubborn.

Kasumi asked, "Were they successful in curing you, boys?"

Silence fell. Ranma and Ryoga exchanged glances, then Ranma said, "Well, they fixed the teleporting curse on Ryoga."

"And... Jusenkyo?"

Ranma shook his head, expression annoyed. "It was too embedded. The price woulda been too high."

Silence fell, and a thoughtful expression crossed Genma's face as he tried to parse just what kind of price would be too high for his son to pay for manliness. Nabiki was more than a little curious herself.

Kasumi broke the silence. "Well, why don't you both join us for dinner? I can make up some extra rice."

Ryoga bowed slightly. "Thank you, I appreciate the invitation."

Ranma smiled widely. "That's awesome, Kasumi, thanks." The two youths removed their shoes, Ranma set down his duffel, and they walked to the table. "Anyone miss me?"

"No, baka!" said Akane, turning away from him as her face heated. Ranma's smile quirked a moment, then he turned to the bowl of food Kasumi provided. Nodding in polite gratitude, he dug in.

His expression seemed to say, It's good to be home.

---------------

"Get up boy! Your time away's made you soft."

The sound of Ranma being kicked out of bed and tossed into the back yard woke Nabiki. Oh, she hadn't missed this, not one bit. Especially after how long last night had run. Ranma and Ryoga had gone through the story of their adventures. Despite her attempt to seem unconcerned about Ranma and his return, Akane had been paying full attention to the whole thing. Once they'd finished – arguing a while about who'd done best in their fights, naturally – Ryoga had taken his leave and headed home. He hadn't been gone long, returning shortly in his cursed form. Much to Akane's delight. Ranma had gritted his teeth but didn't say a thing. Nabiki pondered, not for the first time, a way to create a betting pool on what Akane would do to Ryoga when she eventually figured it out without actually tipping her off.

She rolled over, tried to tune things out. Genma was shouting something about the need to keep in training, then stopped abruptly.

Wait. That wasn't the way it was supposed to go.

Come to think of it, she hadn't heard the usual splash of Ranma hitting the Koi pond. She rolled out of bed, walked to the window as a definitely male Ranma said, "What's the matter, Pops? Scared?"

When she reached the window, Nabiki's jaw dropped. Ranma was floating _-floating!- _about a foot over the Koi pond, shrouded in a faint blue aura. As she watched, he rocketed forward – _flying!- _and she heard the loud smack of fist against flesh and a yelp from Genma. Oh, _this_ was going to be interesting.

**The end, for now.**

Author's Afterword

I first conceived of this story idea back in late November, early December of 2008. At the time I worked the late shift at a call center, with a great bunch of guys. The four of us were huge geeks, as was our team lead at night, and we killed many a slow evening shooting the bull about our favourite science fiction, fantasy, comics, or anime. We also talked about fanfiction. One of the members of the group read more or less nothing but fanfics, most of them crossovers. He steered me towards several excellent ones, and I enjoyed the hell out of them.

The idea to write my own was partially due to these bull sessions, and partially because I needed to do something to pull myself out of a deep, nasty emotional slough that I'd been stuck in since early November due to family stuff. So I started hashing out some plot ideas, with a central concept of 'what is the weirdest cracky story I could do?' An multidimensional romp centred around Ryoga's curse of always being lost(as it is portrayed in fannon, at least) seemed like a decent base, then came the need to flesh it out. Obviously, Ranma would have to be involved at some point, but who else could I inflict Ryoga on?

A conversation about Star Trek and other science fiction, of the 'who could beat who' variety, lead to the next idea. Picking a Trek series to use was tricky: I absolutely love DS9, but grabbing most of that cast to throw them into a mix where they are constantly travelling didn't feel right. The station itself was, to my thinking, too central to the series to really let me take the characters away from it entirely. So I considered the other series. The original series, awesome as it is, didn't really work for me; between the series itself, the movies, and the novels, most everything you could do with that cast has been done. Next Gen was considered as well, but that crew's stories had also been largely told. Enterprise is, in my opinion, a wholly dreadful series, and I really only liked one character of the whole bunch(Trip, if you're curious) so it was definitely out for my fic. So I settled on Voyager, hedged with taking some characters from DS9. Voyager had awesome potential, but that potential was horribly, horribly squandered with some of the most consistently bad writing ever to mar a trek show. So I decided to work with that.

Including Red Dwarf was something I more or less felt I had to do the moment I concieved of having some science fiction in this crossover. If for no other reason than Rimmer's surrender speach, though I got some use out of them after.

Bringing in Nanoha and company was a no-brainer. I absolutely love all three seasons of Nanoha and am looking forward to a possible forth, and the schitck of the TSAB meant that they would be reasonably easy to work into the plot. At this point, I more or less wrote out a list of all the various places and series I wanted to drop them through and roughed out a plot. I tormented Voyager, and made those torments and their attendant damage stick because I was annoyed at the constant spamming of the reset button on the trek series where it made the least sense. I tormented Worf because he's such a good character for dealing with pathos. I aimed for a bit of an 'only sane man' feel for Ranma, since he was going to be a viewpoint character for long segments of plot where everyone else took the various insanities more or less in stride.

And from late December until I about two weeks before I started posting back in February, that was the plot. Two arcs, joined back together at the end with a shitty deus ex machina ending that I discarded in favour of the less joined, but still open for possibilities ending that there is now. Initially, the plot didn't include the Senshi, until the co-worker who turned me on to good crossover fics pointed out that most Ranma crossovers involved the Senshi at some point, so why not?

So I shoehorned in another plot arc, armed with a very fannon-heavy remembrance of Sailor Moon, as it had been several years since I'd last watched the show, and I found it too... toothache inducingly sweet and sappy to watch now. It let me work in more Ranma characters(initially, Ukyo and Shampoo were probably not going to show up) and use Subaru and Teana. It also gave me a reason to get a bit deeper into Chrono's character, which probably helped my portrayal of him here. He was, in my opinion, criminally underused in StrikerS, so I was going to give him a few fight scenes and try and give him some cool scenes in general. I think I managed.

It quickly became clear that my hazy memories of the Senshi were horribly inaccurate. Some research helped, as did the two noble souls who agreed to beta read for me, ScourgeOfTheGalaxy and Claymade, who endured the slings and arrows of my shitty, shitty drafts and helped me make the fic as a whole better. If you like what you've read in this story, give 'em a quick hand, as they helped a lot. If you didn't like what you've read, boo me, since I processed the ideas and wrote 'em.

And before I forget again(since they know where I live) a thanks to the guys at work for some early beta reading and help hammering the plot more or less into shape.

Anyway. I shoehorned in the Senshi plot with minimal planning and thought more or less at the last minute. Initially it was going to be a series of misunderstandings between them and Subaru and Teana, eventually leading to a fight. But it became clear fairly quickly that actually making that work would require much more character derailment than I'd initially guessed. So I set them up working together, and basically shortened that sequence by about two scenes, one of which would have been little more than a big fight. The ending; the TSAB deciding to help, was going to be more or less the same, though the details, of course, were rather different(I remembered none of the moon kingdom backstory initially, beyond Beryl being a rebel who made a deal with a dark being for power, and rather than research at the start, said 'fuck it' and made up my own thing. Bad, BAAAAD thing, in this case.)

So with a little help from my friends, I managed to put a semi-coherent plot together and get it moving. It still used a fair bit of fannon, and a bunch of meta-jokes(especially early on – I realized most of them weren't funny in time to excise them from the narrative, however.) The surviving metajokes were ones that I felt worked decently. First, when you look at the average DBZ arc, all characters who aren't Goku or one of his sons seem to be contractually obligated to lose, so that Goku looks better when he wins.

Second, and I ran this one somewhat heavily into the ground, was the 'best friends' bit. See, the creative team behind Nanoha are very, very coy about answering any questions regarding romance and the heroine. When asked if Nanoha and Fate are in 'LOVE love' they tend to dodge the question. 'Best friends' is an answer I saw come up several times, and looking at StrikerS especially(though there are shades of it in season 1 and A's if you look) that answer requires a very, very unusual definition of 'best friends' to work. My opinion on the subject is laid out in the story, perhaps less delicately than I should have put it, but still. So I decided to use 'best friends' as a euphemism, then kept making the joke. I probably shouldn't have. But again, too late now.

I considered and rejected more than a few ideas. I'd intended to drop the chase arc through Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya but the end result of more or less everything I could think if would be more pain for Kyon(or, given that Haruhi'd probably watch Ranma get shifted, Kyonko) and that poor bastard just doesn't deserve to suffer more. I considered popping through a few webcomics, specifically Errant Story, Girl Genius, and Order of the Stick, but couldn't really think of good moments in the plots of those comics to plunk them. I toyed with, and even drafted out, a chapter plunking Ryoga into the city of TunFaire in the Garret Files, but I'd used another Glen Cook series already, and the chapter wasn't gelling well. Likewise, dropping Ryoga into the world of BattleTech, which resulted in a scene I enjoyed writing, but very strongly required knowledge and metaknowledge of BattleTech to work. Voyager almost dropped through Doctor Who, and I briefly considered getting them stuck in the Blake's Seven universe, though that had to change when I realized my initial ending idea, frankly, sucked. I'd planned to do more with Garak, who is probably my favorite character in all of Star Trek, certianly my favorite non-starfleet character, but I found that I wasn't really doing the character justice, and decided to stop writing an inferior version of him. I also thought about doing a very meta scene dropping our heroes through the 1632 series, having one of the Four Musketeers recognize Ranma or Ryoga, and wonder what the fuck had been put in their drinks, since they were seeing fictional characters. In the end, all these various ideas were scrapped, and the story is probably stronger for it.

I caught flak for a lot of stuff I expected to, and a little I didn't. I was flat out amazed that nobody tried to rip a strip off me for having the Borg punk'd by not one but two different 'verses. Especially since one of those 'verses was Star Wars, and Trek VRS Wars is one of the Internet's longest and most bitter holy wars.

The Mirror Universe characters in the Trek arc were an interesting mental exercise. When you watch the DS9 mirror universe episodes, most of the 'mirror' characters really only differ from their mainline counterparts in one or two respects. Mirror Kira is Kira with all the stops pulled out, indulging every whim and not giving a damn about the consequences. Mirror Odo is Odo dedicated to Law rather than Justice. Mirror Garak is utterly lacking in subtleness. So I tried to do the same with my mirror characters. Mirror Seska became a somewhat straightforward soldier rather than a tricky spy. Mirror Dukat is dedicated to the glory of Cardassia, rather than the glory of Dukat. Mirror Madred lacks mainline Madred's sadism. Mirror K'Ehleyr rejected her human half, rather than embrace it. The only mirror character that did not follow this pattern was Mirror Picard. The idea of Jean Luc Picard at the helm of a modified and upgunned _Stargazer_ with Jack Crusher by his side was just too strong for me to mess with. I don't think I could have done a damned thing with him that would have improved him.

I worked to make the story enjoyable, for the most part, and really, really wanted to push through to finish it. I have had considerable trouble in the past following through on stories, tending to burn out on them long before they're done, so finishing this one is a slightly big deal for me. I've proven to myself that I _can _finish a story if I try hard enough. Now all I need to do is do it again. Preferably multiple times.

Anyway, I'm not done with all the little snippets shown here, I do intend to resolve some of the floating plot threads in the future. But this story – a story about Ryoga having wild adventures around the cosmos, and coming to terms with himself in the process – is done. I'll be taking a break for a while before I start another project like this again, I need some time to figure stuff out, but I certainly will keep writing.

I can't not. The voices won't let me.

Thanks for reading, all. I wish you all the best.

TL;DR: this was fun, but writing is hard, so not doing more for a while

Crossover Master List: In order of appearance, and noting where in the series' plot:

Ranma ½ (shortly after the end of the manga)

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (late season 6)

Star Trek: Voyager (end of season 6)

Star Wars (Heir to the Empire trilogy – just before the beginning of _Heir to the Empire_)

Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha (~6 months post end of StrikerS)

Red Dwarf (end of series 5)

Star Control 2 (before the Captain meets the Slylandro. And yes, they asked about the glowy bits.)

Babylon 5 (early season 3)

Sailor Moon (unsure, but before the Starlights showed up)

Megatokyo (late chapter zero)

Slayers OVAs (after last OVA, before season 1 of the series)

Discworld (mentioned only, point in timeline difficult to judge due to the history monks redoing the rock garden)

The Black Company (just prior to the beginning of The White Rose)

Hellsing (after OVA 1, before OVA 2)

Negima (mention only, shortly pre Festival arc)

Due South (mid season 1)

Gunsmith Cats (shortly before the Kidnapped! Arc)

Dragonball Z (just prior to Great Saijiman arc)

The Dirty Pair (Unsure)

Avatar: The Last Airbender (Between Bitter Work and The Desert)

Slayers (mid Slayers Next)

Malazan Book of the Fallen (beginning of Memories of Ice)

Berserk (just after the Eclipse arc, just before the faeries)


End file.
